Sound the Bugle
by Mac n' Meez
Summary: REPOSTING OF THE ORIGINAL. When Ryan Crippen is recruited by SHIELD, its the best stroke of luck she's has in a long, long time. But an assignment gone wrong leaves her with no choice but to become uncomfortably close to the man she got booted out of the army for. Bruce/OC/Dark!Loki. Pre/During the Avengers. Rated M for attempted suicide and non-descriptive non-con.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: And here it is! A lot of people have been asking for this story back, and I am very pleased to oblige. Hope you all enjoy it!**

**Fair warning - this story does have an "M" rating, for mentions of and scenes depicting attempted suicide, and non-descriptive non-con. Warnings are posted above the chapters that contain those things, so please, _please _do not read that if you are sensitive to the subject matter. Thank you!**

**- Mac**

* * *

**Chapter One**

_I'm just a step away  
I'm just a breath away  
Losin' my faith today  
Fallin' off the edge today_

- _Hero_, Skillet

I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me, pounding in my ears, making my heart beat like a drum in my chest. Sweat covered my entire body and soaked my shirt so badly that I could feel it clinging to my skin. With a grimace, I tightened my grip on the handle and sat back on my left leg, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

All at once, I exploded forward, using the adrenaline that had been building up inside of me to spur me forward. My blade flashed as I lunged at an imaginary opponent, then again as I whirled to the side, attacking someone else who wasn't real. I continued like this for sometime, my form growing sloppier and sloppier with every stroke.

I didn't care.

Anger rose up inside of me, giving me a strength and drive I didn't know I possessed. With a cry, I slashed at the air, then flipped the blade in my hand and drove it backwards, impaling an enemy that wasn't there. The pounding in my head overpowered all of my other senses. There were only three things: my blade, my anger, and the things I was angry at.

_That high school diploma that would get me no where._

_The people I could have saved, but didn't._

_The heartlessness of those I was required to follow._

_The man who had ruined my life because I had had the nerve to stand up for the pariah. _

_All the dreams that would never come true._

_.34 seconds._

When the last one entered my mind, I completely lost it. A wave of rage swept over my mind, and I whirled around, letting out a roar of raw emotion as I stabbed outwards. The mirror my blade collided with shattered, and shards of broken glass fell to the floor.

There was still a piece of glass hanging there, dangling, dangerously close to falling, to spiraling down to where it would finally break. I looked into it's dirtied surface.

What I saw disgusted me, repelled me - but it didn't surprise me. The thing looking back at me had bright blue eyes lit up with fury. They could have burned a whole through someone's soul, and would have felt no remorse. Dark circles encased them, and the hollowed out cheeks and shadow that darkened half of its face gave it a demonic look.

Still, the sadness was evident if you looked further, if you saw the way the corner of its lips dipped downwards, how the eyes stared out but didn't care what they saw, how the tears that escaped were born from more than just rage.

That thing, it wasn't a monster - not yet. The humiliation kept it on the brink of humanity.

Kept _me _on the brink of humanity.

Suddenly, my lips curled up harshly, and I lunged out at that last piece, extending my blade with the full intent of shattering it like the others.

Instead, I missed. The tip of my blade impaled itself just centimeters away from the sharp edges of the broken piece of glass.

If I had to guess, I'd say that it was _.34 _centimeters away from it's intended target. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

"Missed it by that much."

I froze, my insides growing cold. A string of curses ran through my mind, but I held my tongue and kept my cool. This was all about appearance. Drawing myself up to full height, I made my face stony and turned around as slowly as I pleased. I was in control here.

Despite the fact that the person standing behind me startled me more than a little, I managed to keep a straight, blank face. Instead of letting my mouth fall open, I just raised an eyebrow at the black man in the long black trench coat. And the eyepatch. I definitely raised an eyebrow at the eyepatch. Thick scars ran underneath it, and there was no doubt in my mind that the accessory was more of a necessity than a fashion choice. The slight bump near his hip set me on edge; _that _was a gun if I'd ever seen one.

And I had.

Folding my arms across my chest and narrowing my eyes, I jutted my chin outward and mustered up as much authority as I could. "Gym's closed," I informed him, my deeper than usual as I attempted to appear confident, like I owned the place.

A knowing smile crept across his face. "Then why are you here?"

I matched his little grin, my eyes cutting across the room and to the shoddily boarded up window that I had crawled through. Then, I brought my blade up and pretended to examine it, all while trying to ignore the wild heartbeat that came with getting caught. My grip on its handle was so tight that my knuckles had turned white, yet the tip of the saber dangled languidly, as if I was relaxed. Once I'd calmed down a bit, I looked back up at the one-eyed man. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm here because you're here, Ms. Crippen." He tilted his head downward so that he could fix me with a piercing stare.

"That so?" My voice was up an octave. I could feel the blank mask I'd been wearing starting to sleep as panic set in. Oh, God, he was here _because of me_? A million, horrible theories for why he would want me popped into my head, and I subconsciously began calculating the odds of me throwing myself out of that window to freedom without getting shot.

The odds were never in my favor.

Glancing back to the man, I cocked my head to the side and gave him a disarming smile. "And you knew I was here because you've been... following me? Stalking is just a tad illegal, you know."

"As is breaking and entering," he replied smoothly, drawing his brows together.

I grinned and spread my arms out wide, gesturing to the room around us. "You're in here, too."

"But unlike you, Ms. Crippen, I don't have a criminal record."

I tensed. The anger I'd been suppressing rose up again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, taking in deep breaths as I clenched the handle of my saber, twisting it like a stress reliever. Footsteps echoed in my ears, telling me that the man was on the move. He circled me, like a lion would do to it's prey. Slowly, the anger dissipated and was replaced by a nervousness that gnawed at my stomach.

"I imagine that it's _hard_," he continued in his deep voice, "being you. No college education. A dishonorable discharge from the U.S. Army." At that, my eyes snapped open, and I fixed him with a glare, but he ignored it. "And now you've just missed qualifying for the National Fencing Championship. You were too slow. What was the exact number? Oh, yeah. Thirty-four hundredths of a second too slow. You don't come any closer than that."

He stopped directly in front of me and smiled humorlessly again. "Missed it by that much."

"What do you want?" I hissed, flicking my saber outwards as a warning. This man... he had me scared. Those things he'd talked about, well, anyone could have found that out pretty easily. But this guy had followed me here, and I could tell just by the look in his eye, that he knew more. He knew my hopes, my fears, my strengths, my weakness. He knew everything about me, and wouldn't hesitate to use his knowledge to his advantage. I was a cornered animal, and there was no escape right now. My eyes flashed to where his gun rested on his hip.

He followed my gaze, then let out a chuckle when he looked back to me. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ms. Crippen." A pause later, he continued, "I'm Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD."

My eyes widened. Now _that _was a name I recognized. More than once (countless times, actually), I'd overheard superiors ranting about this guy. Did I know any specifics? No, not really. There was one thing I knew for sure, though: Fury had an enemy in General Ross.

I licked my lips as I thought that over. An enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

"I've heard of you," I replied nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders. "But, uh, that doesn't really answer my question, now does it?" I titled my head to the side; a challenge and a way to test the waters in one gesture.

Based on the little snort Fury gave, he knew exactly what I was doing. "I'm here to recruit you." Before my mouth could even drop in shock, he launched into an explanation. "Ever since Ross had you discharged, SHIELD has been keeping tabs on you. Don't look surprised; we keep tabs on anyone who's even mildly interesting. My point is, you've impressed a great deal of people with what you can do with that little weapon there. We'd like you to join."

Something was right; it wasn't that he was lying, but there was something he wasn't mentioning. Besides, it didn't make sense. "From what I've gathered," I replied, "SHIELD only takes the best. The elite." I waved my saber in the air. "I didn't even qualify to qualify to be part of the elite. Besides, swords are a bit old fashioned, wouldn't you say? I mean, what's one of the world's top intelligence agencies want with a fencer?"

When Fury didn't say anything, I prompted, "What aren't you telling me?"

"Last year, there was an attack on a small town in New Mexico. The people who fought in that battle... well, let's just say they didn't whip out pistols. They came armed with spears and swords and axes, and other things our agents didn't know how to counter. You're essentially a swordsman, Ms. Crippen. You know how to fight other swordsmen. This medieval-esque combat would be something you could handle."

Fury made to reach into the inside of his jacket, and panic forced me into action. My heart whirled as I lifted my saber, preparing to fight. Yes, I had brought a pointy stick to a gun fight, but all that mattered to me was that I had some sort of defense. Bunching up my leg muscles, I braced myself and waited for Fury to draw his gun.

Instead, he pulled out a manilla folder and offered it to me. I just stared at it, too shocked to even bother to put my saber down. With a raised eyebrow, Fury asked, "Afraid of a little paperwork?"

"I've gotten some fairly nasty paper cuts before," I informed him. My heart still pounding from that _And now I'm going to get shot again _scare, I slowly lowered my sword and tucked it under my arm. "What is that, exactly?" I jutted my chin out toward the file, eyeing it.

"It's not going to explode, or anything," Fury grumbled. He leaned forward slightly so that the folder was closer to me, like bait to a fish, luring me in. "It's all you need to know about SHIELD."

I snorted. "And by 'all you need to know', you mean 'everything you _want _to know is classified'?"

"Most likely." There was a pause in which the only sound was that of distant police sirens coming from somewhere outside. Neither of us were fazed. "Do you want it or not?" Fury finally asked with more than a touch of impatience in his tone.

After hesitating slightly for a moment, I finally reached out and took the file from him, surprised at how light it actually was. Instead of immediately opening it, I raised an eyebrow in Fury's direction. "Is that all, sir?" Ugh. _Sir_. The word tasted stale. It had been a long time since I had had to call someone that, and I had almost forgotten how much I disliked using that title - _almost_.

"Just read that file and see if you're interested." He whirled around and head towards the staircase. "I'll be in touch."

With that he was gone.

The cool night air instantly chilled my hot, sweaty skin, and I had to stop to get out my jacket. Before slipping it on, I paused to take a look at it; heavy, a bit to large for me, olive green, and army regulation. Its green color had faded to a more dull shade, except for where my stripes had once been. Just looking at the thing made me angry again.

I briefly considered hurling the thing off of the fire escape, but then a gust of wind came and I thought better of it. With a resigned sigh, I put it on. After zipping my duffel back up and putting it over my shoulder, I walked over to the edge of the fire escape. I wrapped my hands around the rusty metal railing, gripping it to help with the nerves. Even though I'd done this about a million times since my return, that feeling of a hundred butterflies going wild in the pit of my stomach never ceased to happen.

Letting out a deep breath, I closed my eyes, bunched up my leg muscles, and propelled myself over the edge, twisting in mid-air as I kept a hold on the railing. My feet landed on one of the rungs below, and I finally released the railing so that I could hold onto the side of the ladder. Wind rushed upwards as I dropped down to the ground below.

When the ladder ran out length and came to a jerking halt, I jumped backwards, a jolt going up through my legs as I hit the pavement and stumbled before I finally regained my balance. Turning my head to look behind me, I glanced up at the fire escape and the boarded up window on the second floor. A grin crossed my face as I wondered how the owners of that little gym would react when they saw the mess I had made.

Not exactly the most polite thing to do, break and run like that, but I honestly didn't think anyone had been in there since the attack.

While I hadn't personally witnessed that battle that had gone on between Ross's troops, what had once been Captain Blonsky, and the Hulk, I had seen lots of news footage. Granted, what had been caught on camera usually had come from cellphones, and the film was shaky and grainy. But with all the damage around Harlem, it wasn't hard to put the pieces together. There was still a giant crater over by my apartment, and telephone poles were knocked down in some areas. The poor clean-up crew hadn't slept in about year now, I imagine.

Shaking my head as I thought about all the angry New Yorkers that still didn't have cable, I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and headed off, not entirely sure where I was going. I didn't really want to go home; just thinking about the silence that awaited me made me shiver. I needed a distraction, something to keep my mind off of everything.

The smell of cinnamon suddenly overwhelmed me, and I instinctively followed my nose, turning to find the source. My eyes widened when I saw it. Oh, dear Lord, a _Starbucks._ I hadn't had a decent cup of coffee in years, much less a cup from _Starbucks_. Before I had even registered that I had made the decision to go there, I was digging in my pockets, searching for enough change to buy something, anything. My fist closed around a small wad of bills, and I grinned widely when I realized I had come up with eight dollars. That was enough for a small drink, and maybe a muffin or something.

Yeah, I was running a little tight on cash (I was broke), but screw it. I deserved a cup of coffee and a quality snack.

I practically sprinted across the road, and didn't even begin to lose momentum until I collided with the door, pushing it open in the process. The warmth and smells enveloped me almost immediately, and I may or may not have let out a little moan of pleasure. God, I had missed Starbucks.

"Hi!" a perky voice chirpped. I looked over to see a young blonde woman, probably a freshman in college, waving at me with genuine enthusiasm. "Welcome to Starbucks! How may I help you on this fine evening, ma'am?"

Either she was always this bright and happy, or she was sucking up to get tips. I opted to give her the benefit of the doubt and went with the second option. "Uh, yeah, hi." I crossed over to the counter, leaning against it as I craned my neck to look up at the menu. "Can I have a... coffee?" Yep, I spoke barista. "An a slice of lemon bread."

"Of course! Is that all?"

"Yeah, thanks."

The woman picked up a cup and a sharpie. "Can I have your name, please?"

I blinked. They really needed my name? There was no one else here. Just to make sure a mob of people hadn't teleported in while I wasn't looking, I glanced over my shoulder. No. No one was there. When I looked back at the barista with a raised eyebrow, she still had her sharpie perched over the cup, ready to right. She blinked large eyes at me expectantly.

"Ryan," I replied with a sigh.

"Oh!" The girl - and I said girl because at that point, she had me convinced she wasn't world-weary or mature enough to be a woman - let out a giggle, bouncing up and down. "You have a boy's name, too! I'm Bobbi! But, it's you know, with an 'i' to make it more... me. But, yeah, that's really pretty! It suits you!"

I just looked at her.

Seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was clearly judging her right now, Bobbi, with an 'i', continued on, "I'll have your order ready in just a sec! I'll even bring it to you! Go on and take a seat."

_My God, they must give the night shift an unlimited supply of sugar and caffeine. _Pure _sugar and caffeine. _With a tight smile, I nodded and headed over to a table, slipping into the seat. After drumming my fingers on the table for a moment, my mind began to wander, and it wandered to the file that was currently in my duffel bag.

I leaned over, pulled back the zipper, and took it out. Wasting no time, I flipped it open and began pouring over everything.

The first page was a list of physical standards that I would have to meet in order to become an agent of SHIELD. The second page had more requirements. As did the third. _And _the fourth. The requirements were complex, with subsections and exceptions, side notes and given ranges. A low whistle escaped my lips as I flipped to the fifth page and found that it was a continuation of the list. I supposed you had to be in great shape to be a spy, but this was completely ridiculous. Maybe whether or not you could figure out how to read the list was your intelligence exam? Actually, the more I thought about it, and the more I struggled to read the thing that could have passed for a legal document, the more sense that made.

I ran a hand through my hair, shaking it out and sighing in frustration. How hard would it have been to just say "You must past a number of training tests" or "Your mile time must be _x_"? To me, that seemed a lot easier than writing out a set of freaking terms and conditions. I hadn't read anything this long and complex since _high school_.

_You would have read more things like this if you had actually gone to college_, an annoying, logical voice in the back of my head pointed out.

_That's what I _thought _I was doing_, I replied bitterly. _I thought the army would help pay for college when I got out. Didn't image I'd get dishonorably discharged before hand._

"Here you go, ma'am!" Bobbi's voice derailed my train of thought completely. With a unnecessarily large smile, she held out my coffee and the bag that held my bread. "You're total is six dollars and fifty four cents. Would you like to pay in cash or credit?"

I opened my mouth, about to ask who on Earth would use a _credit card _for something that cost less than seven dollars, but managed to bite my tongue, a major accomplishment for me. Instead, I simply sighed and handed over the wad of ones I had found in my pocket earlier. Realizing that I didn't really have enough on me to give her a decent tip, I added, "Keep the the change."

"Thank you so much!" she gushed like I'd just given her a winning lottery ticket instead of a dollar-fifty. As she bounded away, I shook my head. _She must be new here_, I thought. _There's no way she'll last._

After that, I took a sip of my coffee (which was simply spectacular) and went back to the file Fury had given me.

What felt like hours later, I had finally managed to discern SHIELD's requirement list. In all honesty, it really wasn't all that bad - it was actually a lot like that Presidential Fitness test I'd taken all through school, only with higher standards. Standards that wouldn't be too difficult for me to meet; I had spent the last six years in the army, after all. Feeling more confident than I had in a while, I flipped to the next page.

I choked back laughter. At the top of the page, in scrawled, thin handwriting was a note from Fury himself: _Page on the benefits of joining SHIELD. Thought you'd like this one best. _After reading that, I firmly believed that if Nick Fury had not been an international super-spy, he would have made an excellent car salesmen - he knew right off the bat that the benefits would be a selling point for me.

And indeed they were. My eyes widened, and I nearly spewed the final sip of my coffee everywhere when I saw the salary. Government agent get made _that _much? Was that even legally possible? I blinked several times, wanting to make sure that that was the actual number, and I wasn't just imaging those last couple of zeros.

I wasn't. Holy shit, I wasn't. That was the real number I was being offered. I quickly scanned the rest of the paper with hungry eyes; a residence on location, health care, _and _an agency funded, yearly, three-week vacation were also included.

It took all of my self control to _not _go running from the Starbucks, screaming like a giddy idiot for Fury to come and take me now.

I should really think this through. I mean, what did I _really _know about SHIELD? What did I know about Fury? What did I know about being a spy? While the packet had listed the requirements and benefits, there had been no actual job description. Although, given my limited knowledge, I could pretty safely assume that it was going to be a life-threatening job.

I opted to sleep on it. Fury said he would be in contact with _me_, right? He'd probably give me a couple of days for me to think about it before showing up again just as suddenly as he had before. With the decision to not make a decision made, I slung my duffel over my shoulder, pushed out from the table, grabbed my file, and headed out the door.

The cool night breeze still felt good. I'd always liked the night air; for some reason, it just seemed fresher than anything else. I inhaled deeply before turning and setting off for the little apartment I called home.

But then I stopped. I _still _didn't want to go back there. Why would I? The place was damp and dark with minimal furniture and a bathroom that seemed to only work when it felt like it. A cold draft always flowed through the halls. There was nothing of meaning for me there. I ran a hand though my hair, letting out a huff.

Life used to much easier. There had always been something new, something excited, and I'd almost always been in good company. Now, I felt like I was in a rut with no way out. I hated going home, I dreaded going out. No matter who I went to, no matter how many places I tried, I couldn't find a job. No one wanted the mutineer. No one wanted me.

_Not true_, I reminded myself, clenching the manilla folder I still had in my hand. SHIELD wanted me. SHIELD had sought me out. And they were offering me exactly what I wanted: a decent place to live, a change of scenery, something new to do with my life (even if said new thing would probably end up putting my life in danger).

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. I knew exactly what I wanted. I spun around, opening my mouth to call out. To who? Well, I sure didn't know. It was just the prospect of finally having everything in its proper place that excited me enough to shout it out to the world.

The grin faded off my face when I recognized a man standing in the shadows less than a hundred yards away. A slow, knowing smile crept across his face as he looked at me, not blinking his one eye at all.

"Made your decision, Ms. Crippen?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_My hands are cold, my body's numb_  
_I'm still in shock, what have you done?_  
_My head is pounding, my vision's blurred_  
_Your mouth is moving, I don't hear a word_

- _Exit Wounds_, The Script

In the eight months that had passed since I'd first joined SHIELD, I had learned that night air isn't always cool and pleasant.

In fact, it could be downright horrible. Here in Calcutta, the air was so thick and humid that it felt more like I was drinking than inhaling. I sucked in a deep breath, nearly choking on the muggy substance that filled my lungs. Leaning back against the wall, I reached up to wipe the sweat that had been forming off my brow. When I brought my hand back down again, I pulled a face at the puddle of water on it. Jesus. I hadn't even been _doing _anything. I'd just been sitting here, watching through the window on the building opposite as Banner examined and treated a sick family.

Now that I thought about it, that's all I'd been doing for _eight months_. Trailing Banner was the highlight of my day. All day, everyday, twenty-four/seven. It wasn't that the man himself was dull - it was simply that he had a routine, stuck with it, ... and spoke in a language I didn't understand. I mean, I could recognize a couple of words that were used frequently in my little "social circle"; words like 'doctor' and 'sick' and 'hurt'. Mainly, though, I relied on the tone of people's voices to figure out what was going on.

Well, not _Banner's _voice. The way he spoke... it was always like he was just on the verge of breaking out into a wry smile. Only when something was really wrong, or when he was trying to calm a panicked child, did his voice reflect his emotion. I had to watch his body language to figure out what was going on in head. And even then, that was hard. He never relaxed. He was always fiddling with his glasses, or clasping his hands together nervously.

In all my time watching him, I had never seen him angry.

Another thing I had never seen? The thing I was supposed to be looking out for: Banner's enemies. According to Fury, there were people after him, people who wanted to use the Hulk for personal gain. While I didn't doubt that at all, there'd been no sign of anyone who looked even mildly threatening.

Up until now.

My eyes narrowed as I spied the same three men I had seen earlier today - as well as a couple of times yesterday. Calcutta was a big, bust city; the odds of seeing the same people in less than twenty-four hours were slim. Plus, these guys were obviously not from around here. All of them were tall, muscular, obviously well-fed, and had military style crew cuts. Unlike the locals, they stood straight and walked with purpose, hands tucked behind their backs as they observed everything with sharp eyes.

The thing that really tipped me off was that they were trying to hard. Trying to hard to act inconspicuous, trying to hard to not make eye contact, trying to hard to blend it. It was obviously unnatural. They stood in a perfect triangle around the square, occasionally attempting to signal each other discreetly (a term I use loosely there).

When Banner came out of the house, I pushed myself up to my feet. After rolling my shoulders and shaking out my legs, I made to leap down from the balcony, but something stopped me. As Banner made his way across the square, the three goons I had been keeping an eye on exchanged nods and headed off in the same direction the good doctor was going in. I froze, my mind whirling as I attempted to come up with a plan.

Turning on one heel, I darted off, deciding that staying above the situation would put me in a better position should I need to take action. I sprinted along the rooftops, arms outstretched to help me keep my balance. Banner was a good three hundred yards in front of me, with his stalkers trailing along behind him. I leapt down to a lower level and hit the concrete running. My eyes were always locked on either Banner or the men following him, because I was _not _about to lose them.

And then Banner turned down an alley. I let out a string of curses, skidding to a halt and trying to find a way to continue to follow him. As I couldn't _fly_, getting to the rooftops on the other side of the road was out of the question. Looked like I was grounded.

I paused for a moment, unsure of how to get down, before noticing a clothes line out of the corner of my eye. After taking in a deep breath, I propelled myself off the edge of the rooftop, hands outstretched. My stomach churned dangerously for that moment where I was in midair, with nothing to support me, but that nervous feeling quickly disappeared when my hands wrapped out the piece of rope. With a jerk, I stopped falling and started sliding down towards the ground, my weight dragging the rope lower and lower.

Finally, I was dangling just feet above the ground. I let go and took off again, setting my sights on the alley into which the four men had disappeared. Weaving my way through the crowd, I managed to make it to the backstreet in a matter of seconds.

It was longer and darker than I had expected for it to be. Shadows danced along the walls and dirt path, and the atmosphere was entirely different; it was like I had stepped into a bubble, where the air was still and the sounds of the busy city couldn't reach me. I peered ahead, and a frown immediately formed. Banner was just exited the alley... but I had no idea where the other three were. Suddenly, I was on high alert, adrenaline coursing through me. Everything seemed sharper, more focused. Each sound was amplified.

I put one foot forward, then slowly placed the other in front of that. The other men... they had to be here somewhere. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a round, metal stick that was bound in leather. If fit perfectly in my palm. Using my thumb, I pressed a small button on the back end of the handle. The soft sound of metal rubbing up against metal filled the air, and a smirk played at my lips as I watched my blade elongate from the other side of the handle. Soon, I was holding a saber.

To be honest, I didn't really like my new, SHIELD approved toy all that much. It just felt unbalanced and awkward. Plus, the way it was designed, how the blade was folded up inside the handle until I pressed the button to make it come out... well, I just didn't really trust its stability. I'd been assured that this saber had been made by Tony Stark himself, but what did _he _know about fencing? The man made - or used to make - guns and bombs. This was completely different. Still, a fold-up, grab-and-go saber to conceal; I probably would have freaked a bunch of people out if I'd just started walking around with my blade hanging at my side.

There was a clicking noise behind me, and my insides went cold when I recognized that sound; someone had just readied their gun. I let out a deep breath, trying to keep calm.

"Put your hands up where I can see them," a gruff voice commanded. As soon as he spoke, his other two companions came out of the shadows and moved to stand in front of me, both of the raising pistols. "And drop the... sword."

After a moment's pause, I let the blade fall onto the top of my foot. Then I slowly raised my hands above my head. "You know, you guys aren't exactly subtle," I commented, eyeing them slyly as the two in front of me advanced cautiously. "I take it none of you have ever done theater before?"

"Be quiet," the one on my left, a middle-aged blond man, snapped. He jabbed his pistol at me. "Who are you?"

"Do you want me to be quiet, or answer your question. I can't do both, you know."

"Don't be a smart ass. Tell us who you are."

An easy grin formed. I supposed that was just how I did things - if I was under pressure, if I was trying not to act nervous, I just turned it around and acted like an arrogant smart ass. Acting like something I wasn't was a shield for me. "Alright, alright. You got me. I'll tell." I paused, turning my head so that I got a good look at the two in front of me. The middle-aged one was clearly a real solider - you could tell from the scars on his hands and jaw, by the way he held himself. Speaking of the way he held himself, he was leaning on his left leg. There must have been something wrong with his right; a true solider would never lean to one side for no reason. An old wound, perhaps?

The other looked as though he'd just joined up. I could see that his gun was shaking slightly, like he was either afraid to use it, afraid of me, or unsure of how to hold. That last one had always been my biggest problem. "Have you gentlemen ever heard of SHIELD?"

Based on the way their eyes widened and the frantic exchanged glances, I guessed that _yes_, they had in fact heard of SHIELD. The blond solider, who I'd now pegged as their leader, narrowed his eyes at me and all but spat, "SHIELD has no business with Banner. General Ross made that crystal clear to Fury." He paused then raised his gun. "Maybe we should help to send another message..."

Just as I saw his finger begin to tighten on the trigger, I kicked upwards, sending my saber flying into the air. In one swift movement, my hand shot up and caught it, then flipped the handle around. I brought the blade back behind me, wincing only slightly as I heard the man behind me scream when the tip of the saber pierced his skin.

I jerked the saber forward again, not even pausing when the newly wounded man crumpled to the ground. I dropped into a forward roll, coming up just in front of their leader. Swinging my leg around, I dead-legged him in what I assumed was his bad leg. It worked like a charm; with a cry of pain, he collapsed. I jumped to my feet, then slashed one of his Achilles' tendons to make sure he _stayed _down. The sound he made was _not _human.

He whimpered, like a kicked puppy, but as he'd just attempted to kill _to send Fury a message_, I wasn't in an all that sympathetic mood. Crouching down on one knee, I leaned in and breathed against his neck, making him shudder. "Send a message to Ross," I mocked. "Tell him that Banner is under _my _protection, so _back_. _Off_."

A loud bang sounded over my shoulder and something hit the wall just above my head with such force that bits of concrete showered down on top of me. I whirled around to find the boy playing solider holding out his gun with a shaky hand, his finger perched on the trigger. I felt for him; there were frightened tears in his eyes.

But there was something else: resolution. He had already made up his mind - he _was _going to shoot me.

My eyes widened, and I held my hands up in a gesture for him to back off, but before I could even begin to open my mouth, he pulled the trigger again.

I could hear the bullet whizz past the side of my head, missing me my mere inches. Without thinking, I turned and sprinted towards the mouth of the alley, keeping low and attempting to not run in a straight line, like I was avoiding a T-Rex or something. While I didn't think this guy's aim was all that great, there was no need to test that theory by giving him an easy target. My heart pounded in my ears, but it didn't drown out the gun fire happening around me. Some primal desire to _not _die gave me more speed than I had ever had before, and although it seemed like a lifetime, I knew that I burst out from the alley in a matter of seconds.

Oh, thank God. I had made it. I had really made it. I -

"_Aaaah_," I gasped suddenly. A blinding pain shot through me, and I grasped at my side. My hands were instantly soaked in warm, sticky blood. I stumbled forward, trying to get a good look at the wound - I didn't... remember getting shot. I hadn't felt it happen.

But then I closed my eyes and remembered the last time. The delay... the delay had been the worst part. Those few seconds of just waiting to feel it. Of not knowing what it was going to be like. I drew in a deep shaky breath and tripped over to a wall I could lean against for support. Even as I did that, my entire side began to grow numb. My vision blurred, and my eyelids began to grow heavy. The pain... Shit, that _hurt_.

I had to get out of here. There were so many people and I couldn't... I had to get away. Already, people were starting to crowd around the alley. Gunshots could draw a crowd in any place. I could hear the terrified screams of women and the husky voices of men as they shouted commands and questions, trying to figure out what was going on. People were in a state of panic.

I couldn't let them link me to that. I had to keep my cover.

Staggering, I pushed through the gathering crowd, hand pressed against my side to stop the bleeding, desperate to get just a little further away before I collapsed. My mind was hazy, and all I wanted to do was sleep. Each breath brought a new, sharper stab of pain. But sleeping would stop all that. Sleeping would end the pain. I couldn't feel my side anymore. Sleeping... Pain... Sleeping...

Before I knew it, I was on the ground, my cheek pressed to the dirt. Huh. Sleeping on the ground had never been comfortable before, but now... now it was appealing. With a long exhale, I closed my eyes, my mind already beginning to shut down...

A shriek shattered the silence that had momentarily overwhelmed me. Suddenly, everything snapped into focus, and I was fighting an uphill battle to stay awake. I inhaled sharply, struggling to push myself up. I almost made it to a sitting position, too, when my arms gave out from under me and I landed in the dirt again. The burst of pain with that made me let out a loud moan.

People were gathering around me, gasping when they saw the pool of blood I was laying in. Through the fog that had started to settle over me, I vaguely heard someone call out for a doctor.

_No_, I thought desperately, taking in a ragged breath. There was only one doctor in the area right now - and I couldn't let Banner see me. My cover... I couldn't blow my cover, couldn't let him find out he was being watched. The whole point was to make sure that I was to protect him - from _afar_. "I'm fine," I managed to get out. "No doctor. I'm fine." I shook my head reverently, but there cries for help only increased.

_Idiot_. _They don't speak _English_._

"_No... doctor_," I tried again, clumsily stumbling over their language. "_No need. No doctor._"

No one seemed to listen to me. I tried to protest some more, but I slowly started to succumb to the dizziness, the sleepiness.

Then, I heard the deep, rich voice that belonged to the man I was supposed to be avoiding - and protecting. I should have bolted upright and sped off, not giving him enough time to see me. But my limbs were heavy and the pain was too much for me to fight. Instead, I just laid there.

My vision glazed over, but I somehow managed to make out a pair of big brown eyes. They were filled with swirling emotion - worry, fear, compassion, and... anger. Suddenly, a large, rough hand was on my forehead. It pulled back one of my eyelids, and I instinctively let out a growl, albeit a weak one.

"I'm fine," I slurred.

Banner took his hands of me, then looked down at me with a reprimanding, somewhat amused grin. "Sure you are." Then, he looked away and began calling out commands the native language.

I groaned and closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than to just end this pain, end this torment. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep...

"Stay with me," a voice called from afar.

Or maybe not afar. But it sounded far off and distant, like the person was underwater. I couldn't tell anymore. I couldn't fend off the darkness. I couldn't...

And with that, blackness covered everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_When you're forgiving but you can't forget  
Feels like you're drowning but you still got breath  
And we've been tryna lay this ghost to rest  
Oh but there ain't no getting out of this mess  
No there ain't no getting out  
There ain't no getting out  
There ain't no getting out of this mess_

- _Bullet From A Gun, _The Script

_"Do you have a visual, Crippen?"_

_Rolling my eyes, I flipped over and grabbed the walkie-talkie that I had perched on the ledge of the roof. I readjusted my rifle so that it was no longer underneath me before pressing the button. "No." I knew I sounded more than a little irritated, but I had a good reason to be. "Blonsky scared him off."_

_"Watch your tongue, Crippen. _Captain_ Blonksy is more a better solider than you will ever be," Ross growled back into the receiver. There was a noise between a sigh and a snarl. "Just shoot him if you see him. Do _not _hesitate."_

_I snorted, then pressed the button on my talkie so that I could reply. "Yes." I paused, then, through clenched teeth, added, "_Sir_."_

_"Good."_

_The walkie-talkie went dead after that. _

_For a moment, I just sat there, staring out over the ledge and into the crowded streets of Rio de Janeiro. Vendors shouted to pedestrians, urging them to come by their products, children raced in and out of the crowds as they passed a soccer ball back and forth. Despite the serious mission I was in the middle of, I couldn't help but smile a little at how lively the city was. _

_Suddenly, my walkie-talkie was alive with activity. Gasps and curses filled the air beside me, and for a moment, all I could do was stare dumbstruck at the thing. Then, someone called out about losing visual, and heading in my direction._

_At that, I pushed myself up to a kneeling position, grabbing my rifle and placing it across one knee. I leaned forward slightly and began to scan the crowd with sharp eyes. He had to be around here somewhere..._

_As soon as that thought had crossed my mind, Banner burst out of an alley. Glancing wildly behind him, he threw himself back up against a wall. I lifted my rifle up and placed it against my shoulder, closing one eye as I took aim. _

_But something stopped me from pulling the trigger. _

_Banner pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his wild, curly black hair. Chest rising and falling heavily, he closed his eyes for a moment, and relaxation made his face go slack. But it was only temporarily, and a second later, his eyes snapped open. Even from up here, I could see that they were full of fear. His head swiveled back and forth, like a cornered animal's. _

_Something Blonsky has asked earlier today came to mind. _Is he a fighter?

No_, I realized, my brows drawing together. _Not a fighter - a cornered animal. _We hadn't been told anything about Banner other than that he was wanted by the U.S. Army. It had seemed pretty vague and sketchy to me the first time I'd heard it, but know that I was looking at Banner... well, he seemed more like a lost puppy than someone who had personally offended the army. He glanced up at the sky, and the look on his face was just so heart broken that I made my decision, right then and there. _

_I lowered my rifle. _

_The moment I did, Ross called me again. "Crippen! Do you see him? Do you _see _him?" There was a desperation in his voice that I had never heard before. _

_I paused, looking back over my shoulder at Banner. I could have just been imagining it, but he looked on the verge of tears. With a deep breath, I brought the walkie-talkie up to my lips. "No."_

_A commotion sounded suddenly from below, and I leaned over the edge to see that Banner had taken off again, pushing past carts and knocking several people over as he tried to escape. Skidding slightly, Banner took a sharp turn down another street and out of my sight. _

_When I finally looked back to the main road, I froze. There standing in middle of the commotion was Blonsky. He was glaring right up at him, his lip curled upwards in disgust. Once we had locked eyes for a couple of seconds, he shook his head slowly at me. Then, with a look or extreme annoyance, he darted off in pursuit of Banner. _

_My insides went cold as I began to realize what had just happened._

* * *

I gasped, bolting upright.

"_Shit_!" I screamed as pain shot through me like a raging fire. All of a sudden, I could feel something warm and sticky coming from my side. Oh, fuck, my _side_. The bullet wound. Oh, dear God, was I still _bleeding_? Letting out a whimper, I closed my eyes and pressed my hand against the wound, trying to contain the blood.

My eyes flew open when my hand landed on bandage instead of an open wound. I looked down, shocked, grateful, and terrified when I saw that someone had treated me. Banner. Banner must have done this. My cover, the cover I had been so desperately trying to keep, had been completely blown.

For the first time since waking up, I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. I was in a house - if you could call it that. It looked as though it had been abandoned, and someone had only recently moved in. There were windows, but they had no glass in them; the only thing that shielded me from the outside were thin, clearly over-used, make-shift drapes. I was laying on the only piece of furniture in the room: a bed that, I realized on closer examination, looked like it could give out at any moment. The floors were scuffed and covered in dust and dirt. There was a little room that was separated from the main one, but at that point, I was no longer interested in any of that.

My eyes had landed on the sheet that covered what I was sure was a door. That was my escape route - I had to get of here before whoever had brought me here (and I was sure it was Banner) got back.

With a lot of groaning, grunting, and hard effort, I managed to slip out of the bed. As soon as my bare-feet hit the ground and I started to stand, I stumbled forward, weaker than I had ever felt before. I tripped across the room, unable to stop myself. Oh, God, I was like baby Bambi on ice - helpless and awkward. Although, I was sure that I was in much more considerable amount of pain. When I slammed against the wall, I cried out again, then grit my teeth. My labored breaths were coming out in hisses, and I paused a moment before finally pushing myself off of the wall and towards the doorway.

Just as I started to push past the hanging fabric, I ran into something else - albeit this something was softer than a wall, warm, and made a little 'oof' sound when I hit it.

The pain that came nearly blinded me, and I could feel my legs turn to jelly. The world started to spin, my mind grew hazy, and my stomach dropped as I began to fall. "_Uhhn_."

A pair of strong hands wrapped around my shoulder and stopped my descent. After a couple of hard blinks, the fog in my vision cleared so that I could finally see.

Of course, what I did see made me pull backwards, stumbling away with one hand on my side and the other held out in front of me as a warning for him to not come any closer. I bumped up against the bed, then placed my free hand on it to steady myself. Oh, God, I had screwed up now. I stared at Bruce Banner with wide-eyes, panting from the pain that my wound was causing me. My chest rose and fell dramatically, and I was sure I looked like an idiot.

A wry smile played at Banner lips as he clasped his hands together and began to twiddle his thumbs. "I see you're awake."

"You're powers of observation are astounding," I replied automatically, that over-confidence returning. Glancing around for another way out, when I saw that I was stuck here, I looked back at him and gave him an easy grin.

"It's something I take pride in," he informed me dryly. The raising his eyebrows, he looked me up and down once. "Something else I've just observed... it looks like you've reopened your wound." For a minute, it seemed like Banner considered taking a step towards me, but instead, he started off to the left, trailing one hand along the wall as circled around towards me.

I snorted and peered down only to find that my entire side was now covered in blood. That couldn't be good. When I looked back to Banner, he was a mere ten feet away and still slowly coming towards me. Both of his hands were held out in gesture for me to relax, but I just looked at him and tried to back up further. I ended falling onto the bed.

A hiss of pain escaped through my clenched teeth. God, that hurt so freaking _bad_. I was beyond any real coherent thoughts. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a couple of deep breaths until the pain subsided enough for me to speak. With a bitter smile in Banner's direction, I nodded. "Why, yes. Yes, it has."

"I could fix that, you know." He had stopped advancing towards me, and was looking at me with raised eyebrows and concerned eyes. "I am kind of a doctor. And I was the one who patched you up the first time."

"Fine job you did," I snorted, grasping at my side and shifting around uncomfortably.

With a wry smile, Banner took one step forward. "It was closed when I left earlier," he countered. "You must have ripped out the stitches. Mind if I... take a look?" He gestured towards my side, glanced to the other side of the room where a doctor's bag was sitting open, and then looked back at me questioningly.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I was perfectly fine, thank you very much, when a new wave of pain came over me. Once I had finished moaning, I gave Banner a tired look and spread my arms out wide. "Come at me."

He let out a single chuckle before striding across the room and grabbing his bag. While he did this, I looked towards the window again. Maybe if I just flung myself through it...

But before I could even start to make a move to freedom, Banner was kneeling on the floor next to me. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a pair of dirty, wire-rimmed glasses, and slipped them onto the bridge of his nose. After rummaging around in his bag, he pulled out packeted disinfectant wipe. Looking up at me, he said apologetically, "This may hurt a bit."

I shrugged, and he took that as his cue to remove that bandage. For the first time since waking up, I realized that my entire lower stomach had been wrapped, and the bottom of my shirt had been cut off to make room for it. Huh.

When Banner removed the bandage, I winced at the sight of the bullet wound. Dark blood was still oozing from it, and I could still see where it had once been stitched up. "That's lovely," I couldn't help but mutter under my breath. Banner snorted dryly again as he ripped open the little packet. Then, he unfolded the cloth and began to run it over my open cut.

White hot pain blinded me, and my hand shot out and latched onto the first thing it reached. I sat there, gripping the side of the bed and taking in deep, controlled breaths. I thought I heard Banner mumbled some sort of apology, but I couldn't really hear anything over the pounding in my head. After what seemed like a lifetime, the doctor finished cleaning my wound and the blinding pain subsided into more of a searing pain.

"I'm sorry," Banner said. "That probably hurt more than you were expecting it to." He reached into his bag again and pulled out all the things he needed to patch me up. With another disinfectant wipe, he started to clean the needle with a kind of serious intensity that kind of surprised me. "You were probably unconscious the last time."

Well, that _definitely _surprised me. "Sorry?" I asked, my voice rising to a higher pitch.

He looked up at me in a short of sheepish manner. "There's another bullet wound on your right shoulder. You've been shot before, haven't you?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. That." I nodded, even though he was too busy preparing his tool to actually see me do it. "I've been shot before, yeah."

There was a moment of silence. "I'm starting now," Banner warned, looking up at me with his large brown eyes. I nodded at him and gripped the side of the bed tighter. When I felt the needle pierce my skin, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. This went on for about a minute as Banner sewed me up, and my eyes had started to water by the time he spoke again.

"How did you, uh, get shot?"

"With a bullet."

He let out a little laugh, stopping his stitching motion for a brief second until his hands had stopped shaking. "No, I meant... what exactly were you doing when it happened?" There was tenseness and worry hidden in his tone, and I very quickly figured out what he was afraid of; he wanted to know if I was one of the people hunting him, one of the army members or one of the spies.

In a spilt-second, spur of the moment decision, I came up with a plan that would keep my cover some-what intact: lying. All I had to do was lie to him, tell him I was something I wasn't. Would there really be too much reason for him to doubt me?

"I was in the army." As soon as I said, he froze, tensing up immediately. "I was fighting in Afghanistan, and... well, I got shot." He seemed to relax more at this little bit of truth, so I continued on, this time starting to weave my web of lies. "I don't know why, but it was enough to get me sent home. At first I was glad, but then I realized that I didn't really _have _a home to be sent back to. I wandered. I saved up my money and started to travel. And..." I shrugged a little. "Somehow, I ended up here." He nodded solemnly and went back to finishing my stitches.

"What about you?" I asked, daring to test him. "How'd you get here?" I wanted to see what he would say, what his cover story was.

I peeked down to see Banner gulp visibly. "I, uh..." His voice, which had turned husky, trailed off as he thought for a moment. "I was lost for a while. In both the metaphorical and literal sense of the word. But, I came here and I found a purpose. The healthcare here isn't great... I try to help these people as best I can." With one final (and rather painful) tug, Banner finished his work. "There. Done." He wiped his hands on his knees and stood up, giving me a slight smile.

"Thanks." I frowned and looked around the room. "Uh, how long until I can walk without falling on my face?"

At this, Banner mirrored my frown. "It could be a while. At least a couple of weeks, but it will more than likely be a month. I'll have to monitor your recovery... Where do you live? I can help get you home."

"Oh, I..." For some reason, my cheeks flushed red when I had to admit, "I actually have kind of been living on the streets." That was true, actually; I'd been sleeping in trees, behind garbage bins, or just up against walls for the past eight months. As long as I was close to Banner, it didn't really matter to me where I slept. After all, I had lived in worse conditions. Sleeping in the dirt in a battlefield was never fun.

Banner, who had gone into the other room (which turned out to be a bathroom) to wash his hands, stepped back out to look at me as he dried his hands off with a towel. His brows were furrowed in concern, and he looked like he was mulling something over. The gaze he fixed me with was so intense that I began to feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Well," he said finally, "I suppose you could... stay here." He looked more like he felt compelled to offer to let me stay rather than like he was actually comfortable with the idea. "I'm not around here much, anyways..." he muttered. "And it would make it easier for me to check on you..."

I didn't like the idea either. Staying with Banner was like staying with a live grenade that might or might not be a dud. He could lose control at any moment. But I didn't have many options; I had no where to go, couldn't even get there if I did, and I still needed to stay relatively close to Banner.

"I - I... Thank you," I finally got out, casting my gaze down at the ground. "Thanks. A lot."

And with that, the Incredible Hulk became my new roommate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Wasn't it easier in your firefly-catchin' days?  
When everything out of reach, someone bigger brought down to you  
Wasn't it beautiful runnin' wild 'til you fell asleep  
Before the monsters caught up to you?_

- _Innocent_, Taylor Swift

Banner _attempted _to make it seem less obvious that he was still extremely uncomfortable with and suspicious of me. Attempted being the operative word - he failed miserably. As he prepared a make-shift bed on the floor for himself, he avoided getting close to me. It was as though the idea of getting within a six foot radius of me was appalling, and he would make wide circles around my bed as he put his blankets down in the corner. He'd glance at me out of the corner of his eyes, wringing his hands.

He did have the decency to quickly avert his gaze when I caught him looking.

Did he know? Did he know that I'd been lying through my teeth? Did he know that there was legitimate reason for him to be paranoid? Or did he simply suspect all of these things? Other than the fact that the entire U.S. Army and a bunch of smaller, private agencies were hunting him down and were planning to turn him into a weapon of mass destruction... Actually, scratch that thought. If the entire U.S. Army and a bunch of smaller, private agencies were hunting _me_ down and were planning to turn me into a weapon of mass destruction, I would probably wary of anything that breathed. That was a fairly good reason to be paranoid.

I absentmindedly squirmed in bed, already sweating so badly that I was sticking to the sheets. Based on the way that the light shining through the windows was fading, I could only assume that night was coming, and from there could only hope that the temperature would drop a few degrees when the sun finally set. It didn't help that I couldn't roll over or change positions - my wound prevented me from doing so. I longed to just shift over to the cool side of the bed, but instead, I was stuck smack-dab in the middle, laying in a damp spot. I let out a huff.

Once again, I was stuck with no way out. Oh, the irony. A bitter smirk played at my lips.

"I never caught your name."

I turned my head to the side to see Banner fixing me with an intense gaze. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and I briefly wondered if this was a trap, a way for him to test me and find out who I really was. But his deep, rich voice had kept its even tone when he'd asked, and just like his voice, his eyes revealed nothing. There was no way I could be sure.

"I'm Ryan Crippen," I replied, surprised at how easily the truth had slipped off my tongue. "I didn't get your name, either, you know. I believe a trade is in order?" I raised an eyebrow as a way to challenge him.

Banner looked down at his hands. His curly black hair fell down over his face, casting a shadow that made his expression seem dark. As he thought, his brows drew closer together, and he licked his lips in an unintentionally alluring way. When he met my gaze again, I could see the fear in his dark brown eyes. "Banner..." he said slowly, like he was unsure of it. "Bruce Banner." Immediately after introducing himself, he winced a little, as if he was expecting me to recognize his name.

Instead, I just gave him a warm smile. "Well, then, Bruce Banner, thank you. Thank you a lot."

"I - " His voice had been filled with shock, and he looked taken aback for a moment, blinking rapidly in surprise. But Banner quickly reigned in his emotions, his face going slack as he ran a hand through his hair. He pursed his lips together and nodded. "You're welcome," he finished lamely, reverting to his usual wry tone.

We didn't say anything else to each other for the rest of the night.

Darkness settled over the house. Only the moonlight streaked in through the window, landing on a square patch on the floor near where Banner lay. Outside, the night was alive with activity, but not the kind I had grown used to; this was crickets chirping, toads croaking, and leaves rustling. I even swore I heard some sort of river or creek. I could just make out buzz of the city, but those noises were mutated and distant. It was... nice. I liked this secluded wilderness.

I put my hands behind my head, let out a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Suddenly, a stab of pain shot through me, one so strong that I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I knew then and there that there was no chance that I was going to fall asleep. With another huff, turned my head so that I could look at Banner.

He averted his eyes immediately, flopping over to lay with his back facing me as quickly as he could. I had to stifle a chuckle at his sheer awkwardness. Then, with a start, I realized that he had taken his shirt off at some point since I had last looked at him.

I examined his back, trying to find hints about who Banner really was. The muscles in his back were subtle, yet lean, and they tensed each time he drew in a breath. There white scars covering his back, standing out against his darker skin and becoming more obvious than I'm sure he would have liked. Some of them were small and thin, but there was one set of scars on his left shoulder that looked suspiciously like the kind you would get from broken glass. Where on Earth had he gotten that? I stared at it a little longer, as if doing that would make the mystery solve itself. Shaking my head after a moment, I sighed and turned back to stare at the celling.

The rest of the night was a blur. I'm sure at some point I fell asleep, but really, I had no idea. It seemed like I spent most of my time examining the tin roof, which had a grand total of thirteen holes, two spider's webs, one rust stain, and half an abandoned bird's nest tucked away in the corner. It was really sad that I knew that...

When Banner started breathing faster, my head whipped around to look at him, my eyes going wide. His shoulders were tense, and he was shaking uncontrollably. Panic rushed through me; oh, God, no. No a Hulk-out, not now. Not when I was incapacitated like this. In in act of sheer desperation, I reached out and grabbed onto the window sill, about to pull myself up and out of it. Then, he spoke.

"No." His voice was filled with sleep and remorse. "No," he breathed again, tossing and turning. He sounded so sorry and panicked and desperate that it almost broke my heart - and I was _not _someone who generally "felt" for people. Maybe it was because the amount of emotion in his voice was overwhelming, or because I could just picture his sad brown eyes, but my heart sank as he thrashed about. "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't mean to. Can't... control... monster, I..."

I could only sit there and watch helplessly as he struggled with his own inner demons. Part of me wanted to try and comfort him, but the other part of was terrified. What if he lost his battle? What if it all became too much for him and he lost control? I shuddered at the thought, knowing that the threat of the monster he could become was enough to keep me at bay. It was like he was a zoo animal; I could watch, and I could feel sorry for him, but I would never be able to cross the glass barrier that separated us. I would watch from a distance, as I had been doing for months now.

I spent the rest of the night wishing I could drown on the sound of Banner's whimpering.

* * *

Banner woke and left before the sun had completely risen the next morning. He'd nodded a good morning to me, promised to bring me back something to eat at some point, and had grabbed his bag and headed out the door without another word. He didn't come back until sunset.

This became our routine. Most of the time, Banner would be gone when I awoke. Usually, he'd leave a one of his books (which all seemed to be medical manuals and science textbooks) at the foot of my bed so I could entertain myself during the day, but sometimes he would forget, and on those days, I would drag myself across the floor and over to his make-shift bookshelf. On the bright side, I learned a lot. But, really, I was fine _not _know all of those things. When was I going to need to know about the number of neutrons in a carbon isotope?

Reading was fun and all, but I felt incomplete without my blade. I'd dropped it, apparently, after I'd been shot, was now saber-less. The more time I spent without a sword, the more restless I grew. While I had once been relatively OK with the fact that I was bed-ridden, I began to feel more and more trapped. I was absolutely miserable. I was just _itching _to get my hands on some sort of blade.

So, when I found one of Banner's doctor knives laying by my bed, I picked it up. After tossing it about in my hands for a moment, testing its weight, I hurled it across the room. It sank into the wall with a satisfying thunk.

And that was when I officially took up knife-throwing.

The other thing I did to entertain myself as I recovered was observing Banner. I tried to watch his habits, his reactions to things, what he liked and what he didn't, but it was hard to get a read on him. He really did have a lid on it. At one point, I had caught him doing yoga during the middle of the night. When I'd raised an eyebrow at him, he'd shrugged and replied that the lack of electricity prevented him from doing Zoomba dance tapes.

He wrung his hands a lot, especially when he was talking to me. I got the feeling that he still suspected that I'd been lying to him, but as the weeks went on, he grew more and more at ease. His shoulders were less tense, and number of looks he shot me out of the corner of his eye dropped significantly.

It wasn't a relationship filled with trust, but at least we no longer looked at the other person as if we were concerned that they were going to try and kill us at any given moment.

* * *

I didn't really notice it, at first.

But soon it became hard to ignore. As the days went on, Banner's nightmares grew more and more painful to listen to. He'd wake-up in cold sweat, looking around the room with wild eyes. Once, he'd actually broken down and started to cry. The sobs racked his entire body, but he tried to keep them quiet, suffering in silence. My heart ached just listening to it. Whatever was haunting him, whatever was making him this miserable, he didn't deserve it. It was destroying him, tearing him apart from the inside. His appearance grew more and more disheveled with each day, and soon dark circles that could have rivaled the ones I once had encased his lower lids. His clean-shaven face transformed into one that bore a perpetual five o'clock shadow.

I had seen him so in control... and now I was watching it slip away from him.

One day he came home later than usual, bringing with him tenseness and sorrow the moment he stepped through the door. I could feel it in the air. Before even giving me a half-hearted greeting, as he had taken to doing, he ran a hand through his wild curls and let out the most heart-breaking sigh I had ever heard. Then, he looked up at me, and I was startled to see the hopelessness in his eyes.

"What happened?" I asked, a million different horrible possibilities running through my head.

Banner sighed again and turned away before responding. "Calcutta's always had problems with keeping the water clean, but... Somehow, the source that the local elementary school has been using got contaminated. I've spent the last two weeks treating child after child... most of the time to no avail. They're being poisoned, and there's really nothing I can do. I'm helpless. All I can do is stand there and watch as the destruction happens." He shook his head. "I need go... take a long, relaxing shower." With, he strode off to bathroom and closed the door behind him.

I considered waiting for him to come back out. I wanted to check on him, to make sure he was OK. But soon, the sleepiness I had been fighting off one, and I drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

My eyes snapped open when I heard a sharp hiss.

It had come over where the bathroom was. Banner wasn't in his usual spot, so he must have still been in there. "Banner?" I called out, slowly pushing myself upwards. "Are you alright?" Pausing, I waited for his reply. All I got was silence.

Uh-oh. A hiss of pain? Silence? Panic flooded through me, and I staggered to my feet, preparing myself to make the journey across the room to come to his aid. Oh, God, what if someone had gotten him? Like, what if some assassin had just shot him in the neck with one of those tranquilizer darts? Maybe I was overreacting, but the whole point of me being here was to protect him from situations like that. As I stumbled across the floor on shaky legs, my heart began to beat faster. At that point, I was _certain _he'd been kidnapped, or short, or some sort of ninja had jumped in through the window and had stabbed him, or... I pulled open the door, ready for the worse.

I stopped short, my brows drawing together in confusion as I looked at him. With a razor in one hand, he was leaning over the dinky little sink as he finally got rid of that stubble that was well on its way to becoming a forrest of hair. He was perfectly fine, actually, except for a little cut on jaw.

A drop of blood had pooled up there, and he was staring at it intently in mirror. His lips were slightly parted, and his eyes were fixed on it, as if he had never scene anything more interesting in his entire life. But that's not what caused the sinking feeling in my stomach, what made my forehead wrinkle with worry; it was the expression in his eyes. Or rather, the lack of expression. They were void of all emotions, and their normal rich chocolate color seemed dull and lacked luster.

He looked more like a shell than a man in that moment.

"Banner?" I finally got out, my voice cracking slightly with worry.

Banner blinked, but didn't rush to turn and face me. When he finally did look me in the eyes, I was disturbed to still see that blank stare. He didn't say anything, so I prompted, "Are you... OK? I heard you... uh, hiss."

"Oh," he said simply. There was no tone, not even the dry, wry one he usually used. "Yeah. I just nicked myself shaving. Didn't mean to wake you up." After a moment's pause he turned back to the mirror. His eyes locked in on that drop of blood.

I hesitated for a moment, but eventually turned back around and started off towards my bed.

"It's funny," Banner muttered before I could get very far. I didn't know if he was addressing me or not, but I stopped and about-faced to look at him. He had one finger placed just near the cut on his jaw. There was moment of silence before he finished his thought. "That doesn't make me angry. Huh."

I was going to have to keep a closer eye on him. He was really starting to make me worry.


	5. Chapter 5

**_WARNING: TRIGGER, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE._**

**Chapter Five**

_Sound the bugle now - play it just for me_

_As the seasons change, remember how I used to be_

_Now I can't go on - I can't even start_

_I've got nothing left, just an empty heart_

- _Sound the Bugle_, Bryan Adams

"I'm going to stay here today," Banner announced in a flat tone first thing the next morning. The circles underneath his eyes had expanded and darkened considerably during the night, and I knew why - his nightmares had been worse than usual. His cries and moans had reverberated off of the walls, filling the entire room with his agony. When it became too much for me, I had put my pillow over my face in a last-ditch attempt to drown out the sounds. But I could still here them. There was no escaping it. I shivered, just thinking about it.

With a sigh, he shuffled over to the door and, for the first time since I had been here, put the latch down. "If anyone needs me," he continued on miserably, "they'll come and find me." Banner walked over to the center of the room, sat down, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

I looked at him, frowning. I _had _seen him meditate before, but never like this. Normally, he seemed to find peace in meditating (that was the point, wasn't it?), but as I watched, his brows drew closer together until he looked like he was in pain. I had to force myself to look away.

He stayed down on the floor with that painful expression on his face well into the afternoon. I tried to keep busy, as usual - I'd moved on from knife-throwing to wood carving, and was currently in the middle of attempting to make a whistle. It was actually going well, if you ignored the fact that I had forgotten to make the hole that you blew into. While I shaved thin layers of wood away, I would look up from time to time to see if the noise was bothering Banner.

It seemed like he didn't notice it at all. He was in his own world, and as his face twitched and his expressions changed, there was no doubt in my mind that he was reliving the same painful memories that haunted him at night. Lips pressed together and hands clenching the fabric of his pants, he managed to stifle the cries, but I knew it was difficult for him; you could see it in the tenseness of his jaw, and way he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down dramatically.

I jumped when someone rapped on the door, nearly dropping the knife and the now almost-complete whistle. The knocking continued, becoming more and more frantic as the seconds passed by. I glanced at Banner, expecting for him to be woken from his trance at the sound of a potential patient. When he continued to sit there with his eyes squeezed shut, I eased myself out of bed and clumsily made my way over to the door. One hand on the wall to support my shaky legs, I used to other to allow our guest to enter.

I was almost instantly knocked off-balance by the small blur that rushed through the door and attached itself to my leg. Before I could even look to see exactly what it was, it started babbling at me in Calcutta's native language, Bengali. While I had no idea what the words meant, I could tell by the tone that something was terribly, terribly wrong; the thing sounded like he was on the verge of tears. I glanced down and saw the dark head of a small child. With one hand, I gently pried him away from me.

I'd been wrong; he was _actually_ crying. Tears streaked down his cheeks, leaving a trail from where they had washed the dirt away. His little face was red, and he looked at me intently as he continued to ramble on desperately, his voice rising in frustration while I continued to stare at him blankly.

"I'm sorry, I don't..." I tried to give him a sympathetic look. "_English_," I attempted to explain clumsily, moving my hands around in a failed try at a gesture that might help him to better understand. He didn't, and in his confusion, his sobs grew louder until he was wailing. "Banner?" I called, turning to face the doctor.

Banner still had his back turned, oblivious to the events transpiring around him. A sense of dread filled me when I realized just how far gone he was. "Banner?" I repeated, louder this time. Still, he couldn't hear me, wherever he was. "Bruce?" I tried.

He gasped, head whipping around. There were tears in his eyes, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. My heart clenched at the sight of it. But, like the master of his feelings that he truly was, he wiped his face clean of all emotions and rose in the same motion. When his eyes landed on the weeping little boy, he crossed over to him and crouched down so that they were on the same level. Putting on a smile, Banner quietly asked him a question.

The little boy went off again, and Banner reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. In the same kind tone, he repeated his question, but there was some new bit added at the end. When the boy spoke this time, his words were slower and a little bit more controlled.

Banner nodded, then rose. "His mother's gone into labor," he explained to me as he went over to grab his bag. "But there's... complications. He doesn't know what's wrong, but he says it's different from when his other brothers and sisters were born. I have to go help." Placing one hand on the little boy's back, he steered him out the door.

* * *

The sun was just starting to go down when Banner got back.

The door slammed behind him. I sat up, about to ask him how it had gone when I noticed all of the blood. It was smeared all over his shirt, his hands were covered in it, and there were flecks of it on his face and in his hair. It was still wet, Wet, and dark, and fresh. I winced, the rusty smell reaching my nose and making me cringe.

It hadn't gone well, then.

Banner just stared at me. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than they had been even this morning. His hair seemed to have gained more gray hairs since he'd left, and his worry lines were obvious against the oddly waxy parlor of his skin; he'd aged years in a matter of hours. There was no expression on his face, no light in his eyes. He was a dead-man walking.

Without another word, he walked off to the bathroom, slamming that door behind him. A few seconds later, I heard the shower turn on, the little drops of water pelting the inside of the tin tub we used. He'd be in there a while, I was sure - it would take a long time to scrub out the blood and the memories.

I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. When I did, all I could see was Banner, and the empty look in his eyes and on his face. My stomach churned. I couldn't stand it, seeing him, or anyone, that hopeless and lost. He was there... but only in body. His spirit had died. Oh, God, I had to stop thinking about it, or I was going to be sick...

There was a crash, and I immediately jumped off the bed, my heart racing. Hissing, I looked down at my side and realized that I had ripped open my stitches again when I had moved so quickly. Still, I didn't care. I was too focused on him. "Banner?" I bellowed, taking a shaky step forward. "What happened?"

There was no response, just like last time.

He must have fallen, slipped in a puddle of water made by the shower. Had he hurt his head? Been knocked unconscious? That was the only thing that made sense. If he wasn't hurt, why else wouldn't he respond? I quickened my pace in an attempt to come to his aid faster.

"Banner?" I shouted on last time as I pushed open the door. It stopped mid-swing, coming into contact with... a foot? Oh, God, he _was _hurt. I pushed harder, getting his foot to slide across the floor and giving me enough space to slip through.

When I did step into the room at last, I stopped short and let out a strangled noise at what I saw.

The blood. The blood was _everywhere_. It swirled around in the puddles on the floor, turning the water an ominous pink. It dripped off of the sink, falling rhythmically onto the same spot on the floor, staining the wood. Banner's pants were covered in splashes of it, and the pink mixture was slowly starting to soak them. His shirt was dyed with the same red stuff as before, but... there was new blood, fresh blood. My heart stopped when I saw the bloodied razor laying just by his right hand... and I had to stifle a scream when I looked to his left wrist.

_His blood. He was covered in his own blood. _

Ribbons of crimson seeped from the cuts on his wrist, swirling into a pool of blood that stained his skin and floor the same deep red color. The blood bubbled slightly as it continued to flow, and I could only stare in shock. _He _had done this to himself. He had tried to... No, no, he wouldn't. But he had. He had, and I was just standing there watching his life slip away, just as the blood slipped off of his arm and onto the floor.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had a towel in my hand and was on the floor by his side. As gently as I could, I lifted his mutilated wrist, brought the towel to it, and pressed down on it in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. I didn't know what else to do. But I did know that there was no way he was going to bleed to death, even if that was what he wanted. Not if I had any say in the matter.

I turned to look at his face. Oh, God, for the first time in a long time, he looked _peaceful_. His features were completely slack, save for the small smile on his lips. If he wasn't drenched in his own blood, he could have been sleeping. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and with my free hand, I reached over and wiped them away, pushing back his thick curly hair as I did. "You're not dying on me," I informed him quietly.

Maybe he heard me, or maybe it was just a fluke, but when I said that, his breath hitched and his eyelids fluttered. Then he continued on with his ragged breathing, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, reassuringly. If he was still breathing, he was still alive. I had to keep him breathing.

"Please, live," I begged him. "Please."

I lost all sense of time as I sat there with him. Soon, the towel I had been using was completely soaked through, and I pulled it away, already searching for something else to slow the bleeding. I came up short. Panicking, I looked back to his wrist, expecting for it to already be drenched in blood. But instead, relief flooded through me, and gave wings to my heavy heart. His cuts weren't nearly as deep as I had expected for them to be, and he had missed the vein that ran down his arm. I slumped back against the wall, a tired smile crossing my face because I knew then _that he was going to be OK_.

Suddenly, I felt something wet on my face. With my free hand, I reached up to wipe it away, assuming it was blood. When I pulled away and my fingers were clean, and I did a double take. Tears. There had been tears on my face. I'd been crying? I - I didn't understand. What could have me -

Banner let out a little moan suddenly, and I looked to him again. The relaxed appearance was gone, replaced by a face that was twisted in agony. His breaths increased rapidly, and he tossed and turned his head. He was hurting... and not just physically. Emotionally. He was so broken, like shattered glass. My heart ached. All of a sudden, I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes, and the tears starting to form.

Oh. So that's what had done it. I swiped at my eyes, trying to clear my vision. Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. I had to focus.

The blood started to rise again, and because I didn't have a better option, I slipped my shirt off over my head. After tearing a chunk off of the bottom, I wrapped it around his wrist like a bandage. It worked surprisingly well. With one hand still applying pressure, I closed my eyes for a bit.

Woah, I was tired. How long had we been here like this? And how long had my heart been beating that quickly? Why were there butterflies in my stomach, and why did I feel like crying again?

"Wh - what happened?" a weak voice croaked.

Eyes going wide, I looked at Banner with a huge smile growing on my face. Now was not really a good time to be _smiling _at the guy, but I was just so happy that he had woken up. The tears I had been fending off came now, streaming down my face. I couldn't care less. He wasn't dead. I was so relieved that I let out a watery laugh. "I think you fell," I told him.

He looked to where I was still holding his wrist, and to the fallen razor. A deep breath, almost like a gasp, escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes tightly. With another breath that racked his entire body, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't say that." My voice cracked, just like his had. I couldn't bare it, seeing him in such pain. A single tear trailed down his face, and he refused to open his eyes. "Never say that. There's nothing to apologize for. It's you who deserves an apology. Whoever, or whatever hurt you, I..." I trailed off, unsure where I was going. "Please don't do that," I murmured finally.

Banner shuddered again, rolling onto his side and bringing his legs up to his chest like a small child. He covered his face with his other arm, but that didn't muffle the sound of him choking back sobs. I felt a pang in my heart as I sat by helplessly. Nothing I could do would comfort him. Still, I could try. Keeping on hand on his wrist, I used the other to take hold of his large, rough one.

"I'm here," I whispered softly, trying to hold back the tears that formed as I watched him tremble. "I'm here." Letting out a shaky breath, Banner squeezed my hand tightly, as if checking to make sure that I really was there. Once he'd decided that I was real, he didn't release or soften his grip. Instead, he held into my hand like it was a life-line, and continued battling his sobs.

Releasing his wrist, I put one hand on his shoulder and slowly nudged him closer to me. As gently as I could, I pulled his head onto my lap, the way my mother used to do with me whenever I needed to be comforted. I pushed back his hair again, and started to play with his soft, black curls. Banner shuddered, pressing closer towards me, hand clutching the fabric on my pants. "I'm here. I'm here," I chanted as soothingly as I could.

I was just happy that _he _was here with me.

The sun was rising in the distance, replacing the pale moonlight we had been bathed in with a warm, orange glow. I never stopped reassuring him that I was there as I sank back against the wall. I never stopped brushing back his curls as I let my eyes close.

I never let go of his hand as I fell asleep.

* * *

**AN: Can I just offer you all a quick look at a what I was thinking when it came to a couple of things you might be wondering about?**

**It's sort of my headcanon that children are Bruce's weak spot. In the comics, he tries to have a kid with Betty Ross, but it ends up being a stillbirth. And in the movie, when he says, "I don't always get everything I want", he ****_pushes a baby cradle_****. Which was extremely sad and just one of the few times when I wanted to cry for Bruce. That's why the early events of the chapter upset him that much. Just my thoughts.**

**The other thing, and this is really open to debate, but I don't think that, in the ****_Avengers_**** movie, the Hulk is linked to heart-rate. It wasn't in the 2003 movie (at least, I don't really think it was), it wasn't in the comics, and since Bruce was sans heart-rate monitor the whole ****_Avengers _****movie, I think that its linked to emotion this time. In this, he wasn't angry - he was numb. So… that's what was going through my head, and that's why he didn't Hulk up. Thought I'd just clear that up.**

**I'm really sorry if that upset anyone. That was not my intention. But, what did you all think?**

**- Mac**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_ Lost but now I am found_

_I can see but once I was blind_

_I was so confused as a little child_

_Trying to take what I could get _

_Scared that I couldn't find_

_All the answers honey_

- _Born to Die_, Lana del Rey

As I slowly regained consciousness, I realized something was wrong; Banner was no longer pressed up against me like a scared little child, and his hand was not in mine. Also, I was in a bed. I'd been leaning against a shabby wall when I'd fallen asleep last night. And I'd been covered in blood...

The events of the night before came rushing back to me, and I bolted upright in bed. Instantly, I gasped and went to clutch my side. Dammit, not again! I had just ripped it open last night, and -

I stopped mid-mental rant. My wound was closed. Someone had patched me up. I looked wildly around the room, still to groggy to comprehend what was going on. My eyes landed on Banner, and I did a double take. Hadn't he... just last night he... what?

He was standing just at the foot of my bed, fully dressed, clean, and... smiling wryly at me. He looked just like he had when I first met him, but there was one difference that meant the world: his left wrist was wrapped in a bandage. So he really had tried to kill himself last night. I narrowed my eyes, confused. Where had suicidal Banner gone?

"Watch that." Banner nodded to my side. "I've already had to stitch you up twice. A third time just seems unreasonable."

I blinked at him. That tone, that subtly sarcastic tone that had been absent for the past couple of weeks was back? When did _that _happen? "I was in the bathroom," I said slowly, looking over to the room in question. Then, I looked down and saw that I was wearing one of his button-downs. "And... I was shirtless. What happened?"

That was when I saw it - the shattered, broken look in his sad brown eyes. The pain and the suffering was still there, still fresh like the cuts on his wrists. This attempt at normalcy was a front, a front that was more for his benefit than mine. As he looked at me, the emotions in his eyes began to swirl, the suffering and the sorrow becoming clear as day. For a minute, it looked like tears were present, but he cleared his throat and answered me. "You fell asleep. I cleaned you up, I carried you in here, re-stitched your wound, and... uh, dressed you."

While that _was _what I had been asking about, that wasn't really what I wanted to know. I scooted forward on the bed, fixing him with an intense stare. "Bruce," I said softly. "Before that. What happened before that?"

"I - " Banner's voice cracked, and he turned to face the door. I could only see part of his face now, but it looked so sad. I felt my chest tighten just looking at him. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "For weeks now, I've been feeling... low. But yesterday, with that woman... I couldn't save her. I couldn't save her child. She watched the baby die. She screamed while it happened. And then she died... and there was so much blood. She was covered in it, the baby was covered in it, _I _was covered in it." He broke off again, shifting so that his body was facing me, but he hung his head and stared at the floor. "I just didn't want anymore innocent blood on my hands."

The silence that followed was eerie. The way he said that... he wasn't asking for my pity, he wasn't looking for my sympathy - he was simply stating a fact. A personal, emotional, depressing fact, but a fact none the less. In that moment, all I wanted to do was reach out and hug him. I wanted to let him know that he wasn't the only one in the world with blood on their hands. Hell, he wasn't the only one in the _room _who'd always remember they lives that had been taken on their watch.

I stayed where I was.

_Are you better now? Have those thoughts left your mind? Have you done it before? Can you promise me you won't try that again? _"What makes today different from yesterday?" I asked quietly.

"You," he answered promptly. I just stared at him in shock. Had he really just said that? Before I could ask him to repeat his answer, just so I knew I wasn't imaging things, Banner went to elaborate. "You... _willingly _took my blood on your hands. You could have accepted the fact that I wanted to..." He voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly. "That I just didn't want to anymore, and left it at that. But you saved me. If you had failed, the guilt would have eaten you alive. At least... it would have eaten _me _alive. I can't even begin to fathom what made you do it. But I want to find out. You proved that... that it's possible to do. And I guess... I guess that gave me hope."

Even as he said it, the sadness in his eyes began to disappear, if only a little bit. Banner was still a broken man, but at least he was trying to pick up the pieces. He'd gotten himself out of bed this morning, and that was a good sign, wasn't it? He hadn't completely given up. I smiled at him. "Er... happy to help?"

He laughed at my awkwardness, then shoved his hands into his pockets. After a moment's pause, he asked, "What is it that you do here all day? I, uh..." Lifting his left hand, he gestured to his wrist. "I'm not going to be able to work for a while, so..."

"I read a lot," I said. "I've taken up knife-throwing and whittling. I take sleep more than I'm awake. It's actually pretty boring."

Banner nodded, and I could see just a hint of bitterness hidden underneath his cool exterior. "I was afraid of that."

* * *

At some point over the next week or two, 'Banner' became 'Bruce'. And I became 'Ryan' instead of 'you' or '(insert understood/indirect subject here)'.

I don't know how we did it, but the days seemed short and less boring than they had when I had been bed ridden earlier. We talked. (We told little white lies to each other, creating pasts for ourselves that were more like fictional novels than autobiographies.) We played card games. (_I _played card games; he was just along for the ride.) He would go on rants about science, and I would pretend like I was following along with ease. (Whenever he talked about science, his eyes would light up, and he would transform into an entirely different person, one who was much more alive and animated. Seeing that made me mind being confused a whole lot less.) At one point, I considered teaching him to carve wood, but then thought better of it. I wasn't so sure how he would react to having a knife placed in his hands.

It wasn't that I thought that he would break at any moment. No, he had come too far for that. But he was still fragile; whenever he thought I wasn't looking, his face would fall, and his eyes would fill with anguish. At night, he still dreamed he was in a worse place. Once, I had accidentally walked in on him while he was in the bathroom, and I had found him crying in the shower. I'd left before he could realize that I was there.

Bruce put on a good show.

He wasn't fixed, not yet. He was healing. Slowly, but surely, he was healing.

* * *

Some days were better than others. Today was not one of those days.

The nightmares had been worse last night. I don't know what it was, because I never asked, but it seemed like Bruce was in _actual_, physical pain. He hissed and moaned, thrashing around wildly. His back had arched off the floor, and he clawed at the wood as a guttural cry echoed about the house. That thing inside of him, it wanted out. The monster was torturing him. I had been terrified the entire time. When he bolted upright, panting as he scanned the room reverently with wide eyes, I closed mine, relieved that it was finally over.

He'd been reading ever since then, buried in one of his textbooks. But as the hours went on, he stopped turning the pages and his eyes had stopped moving along, soaking in the words. Instead, he stared at the open book, a line appearing on his forehead as his brows drew closer together.

I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what would work. Sometimes, we he got like that, it took a lot to break him away from his train of thought. After watching him for a little while longer, I sighed and flopped back down, ignoring the slight pain that came from my side. My wound had been healing marvelously, but I still hadn't left the house in almost a month now. A cool breeze rushed in from the window, and I closed my eyes and groaned in pleasure went it hit me. Oh, God, when was the last time I had felt a cool breeze in this hell?

"Take me for a walk," I said suddenly, sitting up and turning to face Bruce. Surprisingly, he blinked rapidly, letting his book fall so that he could fix me with a confused stare. "A walk," I repeated. "I want to go on a walk." It seemed childish to demand that he take me out (actually, it seem more like I was an overbearing girlfriend), but a) I was probably going to have to use him for support at some point, as I hadn't walked more than twenty feet in weeks, and b) I really wanted for him to get out of the house, to be distracted by something.

Bruce blinked his large brown eyes at me again. Then he nodded, rising to his feet. "OK," he muttered. "We could both use the fresh air." He crossed over to me and held out his arm in case I needed it for support. Before even starting to get out of bed, I just raised an eyebrow at it, and he pulled it back with a little snort of laugh. He should have known by know that I wouldn't take his help unless it was absolutely necessary, or I was feeling extremely lazy. I slipped right past him, then awkwardly made my way to the door. My legs were stiff, and so I ended up looking a bit like Frankenstein's Monster. I could hear Bruce trying not to chuckle.

Laughter was a good sign that he his mood was starting to improve - even if he _was _laughing at me.

He was by my side and holding the door open for me in an instant. I nodded my thanks, already starting to wobble down the stairs that led up to our shack of a house. My bare feet hit the dirt, and I paused, clenching and unclenching my toes, the simple joy of running around outside barefoot filling me up. When another gust of wind came, hitting me full on, My dirty blonde hair, which I was wearing down for a change, was blown back, leaving my face fully exposed to the cool breeze. I closed my eyes and took in a deep, relaxing breath.

I felt a small pressure on my shoulder, and turned to see Bruce with his hand there. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling upward to form that genuine wry smile I had come to like so much. "Are we actually going to walk, or would you rather we just stand here?"

"Walk," I replied, matching his smirk.

"Where to?"

I paused for a moment. Part of me missed the hustle and bustle of the city, but what I really wanted was a nice, peaceful, quiet evening out. When I remembered something from way back on my first day, I back to look at him. "Is there a river or a creek or something near here? Because that's where I want to go."

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with their old light as he nodded. My heart leapt at the sight of it. He looked genuinely happy. When was the last time I had seen that? For a moment, he looked like he might reach out to guide me, but then he shoved his hands into his pockets and started off, glancing back behind him to make sure I was following.

I felt... disappointed. I _wanted _for him to place his hand on my back and ushered me forward, wanted for him to touch me. I craved it. His hands, as large and rough as they were, were always gentle. I could still feel the light pressure on my shoulder, as though his hand was still there. It made my heart skip a beat.

I blinked. Oh, God, what was I thinking? What was I _doing_? My face started to grow red, and I immediately dipped my head downwards, glaring at the dirt path. I was just being stupid. All the fresh air was going to my head. Yes, that was it. The fresh oxygen was acting like laughing gas, the kind you would get at the dentist's. I was _imagining _things.

As discretely as I could, I titled my head to the side to glimpse Bruce. When my blue eyes connected with his brown ones, I froze for a second before looking away quickly, heat rising in my face at the embarrassment of getting caught looking at him. Then again, _he _had been looking at _me_, first. I turned to meet his eyes again. A small, wry smile was playing at his lips.

"What?" I snapped, coming off a little more hostile than I had intended to.

At that, he laughed. "Nothing. You just looked happy for a minute there."

"I _am_ happy."

"Not always," he replied. Then, after pausing to think for a moment, he added, "You frown a lot. You always look worried, or like you're in pain."

"You do, too." I stopped walking, folding my arms across my chest. He came to a halt, too, examining me closely as he waited for me to explain. Something flashed in his eyes; was it guilt? "Whenever you think I'm not looking. And at night. You have nightmares..." I trailed off uncertainly. I had never let on that I knew about his nightly horrors.

Instantly, the smile faded, and for a minute, the numb, depressed Bruce resurfaced. "I do," he admitted quietly. "I hate sleeping." He glanced off to the side, staring at something that wasn't there. After he let out a long sigh, he turned back to me with a forced smile. "Do you want to... keep going?"

I nodded.

We continued on in silence, not sure what to say to one another after that. Did my worry really show through all the time? I thought I'd been doing a good job of hiding it, but apparently not. And what was that about _me _looking like I was in pain? Recently, I had been thinking back on my discharge, on my choice to let him live that first time. Was it that obvious? I only allowed myself to worry about _that _when he wasn't around to see.

Oh. That was exactly what he had been doing, wasn't it? He thought back on his past when he thought I wasn't looking, and I did the same. We both saw through each other. I let out a bitter little laugh, and Bruce through me a questioning look. "It's nothing," I assured him.

Soon, I could hear the rush of water. I could almost feel the cold, wet liquid against my skin, and that spurred me on. I quickly passed Bruce, who had been ahead of me the entire time. When I came to the edge of the path and out into a clearing, a grin spread across my face.

It _was _a river, a genuine, flowing river. The water was only a little murky, and I could see the bottom, which was covered in stones that had been smoothed and rounded over the years. Without thinking, I strode over to the edge and dipped my foot in. Shivers ran up my spine. _Chilly_.

I heard Bruce behind me a moment later. "Can I get this wet?" I asked without turning around, gesturing to my side.

"Uh, yeah," he answered a little uncertainly. I could picture the look on his face as he stepped towards me, wondering what was going through my mind. "It won't hurt you or set your recovery back, if that's what you're asking."

"Good." With that, I slipped my shirt over my head, pulled my pants down, and started to wade out to the center of the slow-moving river in nothing but my underwear and bra. Goosebumps covered my skin as the cold water rose higher and higher. When it hit my exposed stomach, I had to stifle a yelp. I hadn't gone for a swim in forever; I'd almost forgotten about how hard it was to adjust to the water.

After jumping around from foot to foot, I managed to warm up slightly. There was only one way to fully adjust, though. Taking in a deep breath, I plunged beneath the surface. I shivered, but managed to stay under. I felt so weightless. After all the time I had spent carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, this came as a relief. I could have stayed down there forever. But soon, my lungs felt like they were going to explode.

I burst through the surface, gasping for air. Then, I let out a laugh. This was fun. I was actually having fun. I turned to shore, grinning up at Bruce, who seemed to be doing his best to _not _look at me. I laughed at that, too. I strip down to my underwear, and all of a sudden he's too awkward to look at me?

"Hey, Bruce!" I called. Bruce glanced up at me, then looked away quickly. From here, I could see his face going a little red.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to join me?" I smiled, tilting my head to the side. "The water's nice," I coaxed.

Bruce looked at me for a moment, then shook his head, going back to gaze at the ground. "No thanks. I'm fine here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Your loss."

I went back under.

* * *

Finally, night started to fall. That was about when I began to prune, like when I was little and had spent too much time in the bathroom. I didn't want to get out of the water, but I knew I should; I'd been swimming for hours, and was starting to grow exhausted. My limbs felt heavy as I started to swim over to the shore where Bruce had been patiently waiting for me to finish having my fun. As I rose from the water, I grinned at him. That had been so _exhilarating_. I started to walk up to the bank.

Without warning, my feet slipped out from underneath me. My stomach dropped and terror filled me as I lurched backwards, my arms flying out and starting to pinwheel in a desperate attempt to regain my balance. It was of no use.

Suddenly, I was being pulled forwards instead of falling backwards. Large hands wrapped around my back, sending electric currents that made me shiver through me. Before I knew it, I was pressed tightly against a warm chest, held in a pair of strong arms. My heart was still pounding from my almost-fall, and I could hear the other person's thumping heart-beat as well. I buried my face in their shirt. Our chests rose and fell heavily, both of us trying to calm down. With a shaky breath, I pulled back just enough to look up at Bruce.

His warm brown eyes were fixed on me, and they were filled with concern. I couldn't help but noticed that his lips were slightly parted, and when he licked them, my heart started pounding again. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

It was a moment before I could react. I gulped, then nodded, butterflies running ramped in my stomach. I could _feel _his warm breath on my bare skin, and - oh, God. I was suddenly painfully of the fact that I was only wearing underwear. And that I was wet. And that I was pressed up against him. _Clinging _to him, even.

He seemed to realize it, too, because he pulled away from me. Taking my hand in his, Bruce helped to haul me up onto the bank. Without another word, he handed me my clothes and turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. A blush crept up my throat as I stepped in my short and pulled my shirt back over my head. My heart was still facing, and my stomach was still knotted.

"So..." I began awkwardly, looking away as he had earlier. "What now?"

Bruce shifted his weight from foot to foot. He glanced off towards the sunset, his expression unreadable. When he looked back to me, a shadow had crossed his face, and the corners of his lips dipped downwards. "I don't really want to go back," he told me quietly.

I knew why; going back meant that we would go to bed, and going to bed meant eventually falling asleep. _I hate sleeping_.

"Then let's just keep walking."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_This is the last night you'll spend alone_

_Look me in the eyes so I know you know_

_I'm everywhere you want me to be_

_The last nigh you'll spend alone_

_I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go_

_I'm everything you need me to be_

- _The Last Night_, Skillet

It was well past midnight by the time we finally turned back and headed towards the house. My side ached horribly, and each step brought a new stab of pain. Walking for hours on end after having not exercised at all for a month was a stupid, stupid idea. I had to hold onto Bruce to keep upright.

He had wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I told myself that it was to help support me. Still, that didn't make me feel any less nervous. I kept telling myself to relax, but I couldn't. Being this close to him set every nerve in my body on high alert. He was warm, and strong, and even though I knew he was a ticking time bomb, I still felt safe. I tried to lean away, to keep a little bit of distance between us, but between my constant stumbling and my growing tiredness, that didn't last long. Soon, I was leaning into him, my eyelids drooping dangerously. While my body had gone mostly slack with exhaustion, I could feel how tense his muscles were.

"Can you… make it up the stairs?" Bruce asked, his mouth almost uncomfortably close to my ear. I shivered slightly at the little rush of warm wind. He was so close that I could smell him. Musk, sandalwood... it was nice. Oh, God, what was I_ thinking_? It must have been my sleep-deprived brain being ridiculous. Then, realizing he'd spoken to me, I opened my eyes.

"I... what?"

He chuckled softly. "I'll, uh, take that as a 'no'."

Suddenly, I felt myself being swept up off the ground. My breath caught in my throat as the ground grew further away, and I was pulled closer to Bruce's chest. He had one arm wrapped around my back, and the other tucked underneath my legs. He was carrying me _bridal style_. My heart started to race. Did he know what he was doing to me, the effect he was having on me?

When he started up the stairs, I gasped at how unbalanced everything felt. Instinctively, I grasped onto the color of his shirt, pressing myself closer to him. He stepped up to the next step, and I did the same thing again, now practically glued to him. Finally, he stepped inside the house, on level ground once again. By that time, my breathing had grown ragged, and I was clutching his shirt so tightly that my knuckles had turned white.

Bruce stood there, holding me to him for a moment. Then, slowly and gently, he bent down, releasing my legs and allowing me to stand on my own two feet. I was glad to be back on solid ground. But... why was he still so close? His breath was mixing in with mine, and I found it hard to think with him right there like that.

I felt his hand wrap around mine. Looking up at him, I realized for the first time that I still had a death grip on the collar of his shirt. Oh. That's why he was so close. I was _holding _him there. I looked up at him with an apologetic face, but my intentions were wiped from my mind when I saw that he was looking at me, too. Our eyes locked. That spark was back in his eyes, but they held so much seriousness as they stared into mine. Without taking his eyes off mine, he slowly peeled away my hand.

"Thank you," I finally managed, averting my eyes as I felt a blush start to creep up my face. What was wrong with me? Unsure of what to do, I blurted out, "Good night." Then, face feeling hot, I turned and darted across the room, sliding into bed with my back facing the center of the room. I squeezed my eyes shut, completely embarrassed by how awkward I'd been being.

I listened as Bruce let out a sigh, then went about his nightly routine. The whole time, his breathing stayed low and constant, and I focused in on the sound. _In, out, in, out_. I let out a deep breath, curling up with my pillow. _In, out, in, out. _My eyelids, which had been unbearably heavy for the past hour or so, closed. _In, out, in, out._

_In, out, in, out._

* * *

A sharp cry pierced the darkness surrounding me, and I shot up in bed, heart still pounding at the shock of being woken so suddenly. When I heard the moans that came with the shout, I knew exactly what was happening, because the same thing had happened almost every night for the past month.

Bruce was writhing around on the floor, panting, sweating, groaning, and moaning as he faced demons that only he could see. Each cry sounded so raw and painful that my heart clenched. My whole chest ached as I watched him struggle. The monster inside him was trying so hard to break free, but Bruce fought him every step of the way. "_No_!" he shouted, eyes still squeezed shut. "_Run_! I'm... sorry. Please. Go. I can't... _Sorry_..." With another primal groan, his back arched off the ground, the sounds of his pain filling the room.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

Sliding off the bed, I crept towards the tortured man. He kept muttering and jerking from side to side. My heart started pounding; what if he finally lost control? I was not ashamed to admit that the thought of facing the enormous rage monster scared the hell out of me. I started to shake slightly as I got closer. "Bruce?" Even to my own ears, my voice sounded small. Bruce continued to shiver and sweat, mumbling miserably to himself. When I reached his side, I knelt down to the ground. With a deep breath, I grit my teeth and put a hand gently on his quivering bare shoulder. "Bruce?"

His hand shot up and closed around my wrist, sending my heartbeat off as I tried to pull away, terrified that I had awoken the monster. _Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God_ -

But then I looked down at him and stopped struggling. He was still Bruce. Those were still his big brown eyes, and nothing about him had changed. The look on his face was just so heartbroken. He looked at me helplessly, his eyes brimming with tears. "Ryan?" he asked timidly, as if he couldn't be sure if I was there or not. Releasing my wrist, he reached up and trailed the back of his hand down my cheek, making me shiver. "Ryan? Is that you?"

"I'm here," I answered, taking his hand in mine and holding it in place against my skin.

His eyes still hadn't left mine. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm sor - "

"Don't. There's nothing for you to be sorry about."

He scoffed at the idea, his eyes darkening dangerously. "People are _dead_ because of me." At that, he pulled his hand back, and his eyes filled with self-disgust before he looked away. "I'm a monster."

I didn't know how to respond. Even though I had already known all of that from his files, he had just confessed to me his deepest, darkest secret, the one that plagued him a night, the one that had driven him over the edge. He had bared his soul to me. All I wanted to do was reach out to him, to let him know that he wasn't alone. But I knew he would pull away. He didn't _want _to believe that anyone would accept him for what he was.

"I lied," I said suddenly. Bruce's head whipped around, and panic flashed in his eyes. "About how I got sent home. I lied to you about that," I explained. Immediately, he relaxed, calmed by the (false) knowledge that I wasn't out to get him. "I was dishonorably discharged."

Now, he was sitting up, eye level with me. "What for?" Our tones were hushed, like we were afraid that someone might overhear us.

"Mutiny." I stopped for a minute while I thought about how to phrase it. "We'd been fighting, like we normally had. There was so much blood and death and destruction that we had caused. Our own men, other soldiers, civilians... no one was safe. When a select few of us were pulled off to the side by the general were served under, we were glad for the break.

"He said he had a special job for us - a certain person he wanted for us to take captive. He said that that person had all the secrets we needed to win the war. We all assumed that the target was some sort of Al Qaeda leader, some terrorist that was planning an attack that could rival 9/11. All of us were prepared to do what we needed to do

"But when I saw the target, I couldn't do it. They didn't look like a born killer, or a psycho that was hell-bent on destroying us all; they looked like a scared, cornered animal. I didn't shoot. I had the opportunity to take them down, but I didn't. And someone saw me let them get away.

"Seven people ended up dying because of that.

"The general chewed me out. He said that good men had died because I had been too weak to pull the trigger. He had me court-marshaled for mutiny, and then I was kicked out of the army. I got no money, no free-ride to college. All I had to my name was a scar on my permanent record."

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed, still not looking at Bruce to see his reaction. "Those were just some of the people who's deaths I'm responsible for. I've killed countless others. The worst part is that at some point along the way, killing stopped being painful for me. I did it swiftly and efficiently, with no emotions, like a real, hardened solider.

"So, I don't know what you did. But I know that it still bothers you, that the regret drives you insane. It keeps you up at night. I almost never give it a second thought. You're not a monster, Bruce; you're the most human person I've ever known."

With a start, I realized I'd started to get choked up. My voice sounded thick, and my throat began to burn a little. I had never, _never_ admitted that to _anyone_ - even myself. The truth, that I could kill without regret, gnawed at me... but not enough to keep me awake at night. I had come to terms with it. And that disturbed me more than anything, that I had just accepted it. Pulling my knees up to my chest, something that I hadn't done in years, I let out a shaky breath.

"Do you regret it?" questioned Bruce in a hushed voice. I turned my head to see him looking at me with wide, pain filled eyes. It was me he was hurting for. "Letting that person go... do you regret it?"

"No," I answered. "It wasn't the target's fault. We had them backed into a corner with no way out. They were just desperate. They were acting on a basic desire to survive. I honestly think that if we hadn't gone in there, that person would have gone about their life, causing no one any trouble. I don't even understand why they were a target in the first place; they didn't deserve it."

When Bruce stared at me for a long time, I began to worry that he had realized it was _him _I was talking about. He was a smart guy (hell, he was brilliant); he would be able to see the parallels and put two and two together. I cringed at the thought. I had only known the man for month, but I was close to him. We had seen each other at our most vulnerable points, told each other our darkest secrets. We knew what kept the other person up at night. That relationship... even though it was one built on lies, I didn't want to see it ruined. I didn't want to lose him...

There was a rustling noise as Bruce lowered himself back down to the ground. His large brown eyes were filled with a vulnerable innocence when he reached out and touched my face again. "Don't go."

I laid down on the ground next to him, facing him. "I won't. I promise I won't."

A smile smile flickered across his face, and he closed his eyes. Then, taking me by surprise, he lifted up and arm and draped it over me, pulling me in closer. My heart started pounding wildly in my chest.

"So, this was all a ploy to get me in your bed," I joked nervously, embarrassed by how breathless I sounded.

Bruce let out a tired laugh. "You've been sleeping in my bed for a month," he reminded with closed eyes. "This was a ploy to get you in bed _with _me."

Even though he said it in a joking tone, my heart started beating so fast that I was afraid it was about to burst. My breathing was starting to grow jagged, but I fought to keep it under control. It came out in short bursts, making me sound like I was panting. Oh, yeah, that was _much _better. He just had to put his strong, warm arm around me, didn't he? He just had to make it so that our breaths were entangled again? And he _had _to sleep shirtless. Not only was his chest lean and muscular, but it was covered in thick, dark, curly hair. All I wanted to do was run my fingers through it.

Which was weird.

Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled my hands up to my chest, balling them into fists. I focused on breathing normally, on slowing down my heart-rate. By ignoring him and his closeness as best I could, I finally reached that place where you fall in and out of consciousness until the darkness takes over.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, our foreheads were touching.

I blinked, trying to clear the sleep out of my eyes. Soon, the world came back into focus, and I saw that Bruce was already awake, a lazy smile on his face. "Morning."

"Hi," I replied. My eyes landed on a chunk of hair that was falling into his face, and without thinking, I reached up and brushed it back. Then, realizing what I'd done, my face started to grow red again. He let out a wry laugh.

We just looked at each other for a moment, never breaking each other's gaze. I had never been a fan of brown eyes before, but his eyes... they could be dark and mysterious, or they could be the lighter chocolate brown I was looking at now, showing all of his emotions as they swirled together. Plus, there was that spark. That spark that lit up not only his eyes, but his entire face. I loved seeing that spark.

"Thank you," he whispered, still not breaking eye-contact with me. "That's the best I've slept in... a while."

I nodded. "Me, too, actually." The I stretched out on the floor, letting out a grown. "But my back is killing me. Let's do it on the bed next time." Oh, shit. Did I just say that? "I mean, sleep together on the bed. If you want to." _Fuck_. I looked at him helplessly. "That _all_ came out wrong."

Bruce laughed again, and suddenly I was OK with screwing that up so badly. It was worth it to hear him genuinely laugh - he didn't do that often enough. "I know what you're trying to say." Then, he pushed himself to his feet and stretched out like a cat. I had to avert my eyes to keep from staring.

What the hell was happening to me?

* * *

We ended up doing the same thing each night. Bruce would slip into bed behind me, draping his arm over me and bringing me close to him so that he could spoon me. I could feel his warm breath tickle the back of my neck neck, sending shivers down my spine. Each time I shivered like that, he'd pull me in closer until I was so close that I could feel his heart beat against my back. Despite how my heart race, despite how every nerve in my body felt alive with energy, it was the most relaxed I had been in a long, long time. I slept soundly every night.

Both of us did.

As the days went on, we learned more and more about each other. Our likes, our dislikes, our habits. He hated being cold, his favorite food was Italian and that his mom had made it for him every Thursday when he was little, the first person he'd ever had a crush on was Margaret Houlihan from _M*A*S*H_, and he'd nearly failed his American Literature class in college. I told him about how I'd always loved to travel, but had never left the East coast before I joined the army. I told him that I'd always hated taking history classes, that I'd started fencing when I was ten after going to Disney World and deciding that I wanted to be a pirate (I had really liked the ride, OK?), and about how I'd actually managed to get into NYU, but couldn't pay the tuition. That's why I'd joined up.

We'd lie about the big parts of our lives. He lied about where he went to college, what his first real job was, how he ended up here. I lied about what I'd done after getting discharged, where I lived, and why I'd even wanted to come to Calcutta in the first place.

But it was the little things that counted, right?

Although he never said anything about it, we both knew I would be fully healed soon, and there would no real reason for me to stay with him. After changing my dressings the last time, he'd made up some excuse about how I should really stay so that he could observe my rehabilitation process, but I knew that was bull. He was lying to keep me there. I wasn't... I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Good, definitely, but... I just felt so confused.

The one thing I knew for sure was that I didn't want to say 'goodbye'.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_This ain't goodbye_

_This is just where love goes_

_When words aren't warm enough to keep away the cold_

_This ain't goodbye_

_It's not where our story ends_

- _This Ain't Goodbye_, Train

Eventually, Bruce went back to making his rounds and being a full-time doctor again. Last time, he'd be gone before I got up and back just as I was falling asleep. We would exchange silent nods and tense smiles, and sometimes, if we were in good moods, we'd even bother to say 'hello'.

It was different this time.

Bruce would try his best to get out of bed without waking me, but the sudden lack of him would always jolt me awake. I'd watch him slip on one of his worn out shirts, run a hand through his hair instead of actually brushing it, and then, once he was done getting ready, he'd turn around and throw me his wry smile and promise he'd be back later. I'd promise I wouldn't go anywhere.

Unless he was busy, he'd bring back lunch from the market place, and the two of us would sit and eat together. A lot of times, we talked, but sometimes we just fell into an easy silence. It was a nice, relaxing routine - almost domestic.

He'd still get back late, but this time I'd wait up for him. His face, which was always tired and worn when he walked through the door, would light up when he saw me grinning at him. That made my heart skip a beat.

Soon, I was actually following him around while he went and did his doctor thing. The way he stayed calm when others panicked, the kind voice he used to reassure people that everything was OK... it just... all of those things made me smile. I loved watching him work. Why on _Earth_ did he drop out of medical school to become a physicist? I wanted to ask him that so badly, but I knew I couldn't; that was one of the things I learned from a piece of paper, and not from his own two lips.

I wanted to tell him truth, but I couldn't. There was some fundamental part of me that had been changed and molded by the army; I had a mission to complete, and I was going to complete it, dammit. By getting caught by Bruce, I'd almost already blown it. I had to do everything in my power to keep it going, and that meant continuing to live a lie.

I hated myself for lying to him.

I thought about all of this as Bruce worked quietly over a sick man while his wife and children watched on nervously. Soon, the doctor straightened up, turned towards the family, and began to explain what was going on while he fished around in his pockets for something. Finishing up his speech, he handed a bottle of pills to the woman, then proceeded to explain what they did.

Nodding reverently, the woman took the pills, clutching them close to her chest like it was the most precious thing she had ever received. With one hand, she nudged her oldest son forward, and the little boy held out a wad of money to Bruce.

A grin spread across Bruce's face. He shook his head, reaching out and closing the little palm. I rolled my eyes; lately, Bruce had stopped charging people, explaining to them in Bengali that he was happy to do it, no charge necessary. With a nod to the family, he looked to me to signal that it was time to go.

"What did he have?" I asked as we stepped out onto the crowded streets. A pressure appeared on the small of my back, and before I knew it, Bruce was guiding me through the mass of people. My palms started sweating, and an ache spread through my chest.

"Just the flu," he replied in his rich, deep voice. "It was nothing for them to panic over. He'll be fine in a couple of days." Then, shaking his head, he added, "I wish they'd better educate these people on the signs of sickness. I get so many emergency calls, and most of the time, there's nothing for me to do."

"I know. But they like having you come. You... reassure them."

Bruce just sighed. Then, stopping short, he pointed off to his left. Craning my neck around him to get a better view, my eyes widened when I saw it; the entire road was filled with stands and vendors, selling food, products, or even providing entertainment. Lanterns hung from ropes above the crowd, and the sound of laughter filled the air. "Looks like some kind of festival." Bruce looked down at me questioningly, and I knew what he was asking.

"Sounds like fun," I answered brightly.

* * *

It _was _fun.

People selling things pounced on us as soon as we had started to walk down the street, putting fabrics up to me and babbling on like a sales person in the U.S. would. I tried to laugh and brush them off, but these guys were nothing if not persistent. Finally, to get them to leave us alone, Bruce bought a gauzy, light blue scarf. Draping it across my shoulders, he grinned slightly and said, "It matches your eyes." My heart caught in my throat at that.

For dinner, we got some kind 'meat-on-a-stick' that actually tasted pretty good. I mean, for I knew, I could be eating _people_, and I wouldn't know. But it was delicious, so I didn't care enough to ask. The two of us walked around, munching leisurely on our sticks. Soon, we stopped to watch some kind of puppet show that a group of children were putting on. Bruce leaned in close and whispered the translation in my ear.

I ended up not being able to focus on the show.

Once we'd finished with that, we continued down to where the crowd started to thin out. It was another shopping area, but instead of clothes, the people here were selling eclectic little trinkets. I stared at them in wonder, amazed by the craftsmanship and the detail that went into making each little piece. Then, something caught my eye. "Holy shit," I breathed, breaking away from Bruce to go take a closer look.

It was a saber, and it was probably the finest weapon I had ever seen. The blade was long, thin, and lethal, shining in the light of lanterns above, calling me to it. Intricate patterns and designs covered the hand-guard, and I wondered briefly if it was for show or if it could actually be used. The handle was molded, and a small voice in the back of my mind told me that it was molded for _my _hand, that it would fit perfectly.

"Eh... American, yes?" A thickly accented voice broke me from my trance. The man behind the stand was giving me a grin, revealing several holes in his smile where teeth should have been. "You American?"

I nodded, and he let out a deep laugh. "Ah, good, good! You like this, eh?" He gestured towards the blade I had been ogling. "Very nice, this. You know how to use?" Encouraged by the nod I gave him, he picked it up and held it out to me. "Try, try! You like, I know you will."

Hesitating slightly, I reached out, wrapping my hand around the handle of the blade. I was right - it was like this blade had been made for me. Feeling more confident, I pulled it away from the vendor and held it out to test its weight. Light, just like I liked it. And it was perfectly balanced, too. I rolled my wrist around, practicing the movements that I hadn't done in over a month now. Something released inside of me, and I felt at home here in the middle of a crowded street.

"You look intimidating with that," a soft, deep voice noted. I glanced over my shoulder to see Bruce with his hands in his pockets, grinning at me. "I wouldn't to run into you in a dark alley."

_No, you wouldn't. And there are several other people who will testify to that. _Biting my tongue, I just laughed and shrugged, unsure of what else to do. Fortunately, Bruce spoke again.

"There's a family just down the street that sent their son to get me. It's the usual; they don't know what's wrong, it's an emergency, they'll pay me double..." When he looked me over, his eyes filled with regret when he saw that, at last, I had my favorite object back in my hand. "I'll go see what they need, but you can stay here, if you want to."

I was just about to tell him that it was fine, that I really didn't need to look at the saber anymore, when the vendor interrupted. "Your lady can stay with me!" he boomed, giving Bruce the same toothless smile he'd given me. "I have more swords in back! She will like, she will. And she try them, free of charge, OK?"

Bruce just laughed and nodded. "OK." With a final, meaningful glance at me, he turned and walked off into the crowd, off to help some other poor soul.

"Hey, lady!" the vendor called, having moved from behind his stand to a curtain hanging over an entrance to an alleyway. The hell? Could that be anymore shady? "Come, come! You keep him waiting!"

I thrust a thumb over my shoulder, looking at the man uncertainly. "Bruce just left..."

The vendor rolled his eyes like I was an idiot. "No, not your man-friend. Bald man with one-eye here to see you. He waiting for you. He ask me to get you. Come, come."

My blood turned to ice in my veins, and all I could do was stand there and stare blankly. A one-eyed bald man who'd come to see _me_? Fury. It _had _to be Fury. No one else I knew fit that description. My stomach churned dangerously when I realized what he wanted; I'd gotten too close to the mission at hand, had failed to keep at a distance. I was in trouble, and I knew it.

Every fiber in my being told me to run, to find safety in Bruce's arms, but I wouldn't do that; running was the coward's way out. Taking in a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and stepped through the curtain and into the back alley.

Nick Fury sat on a crate, casually crossing his legs and leaning back against the concrete wall. His one dark eye bore into me, and he narrowed it slightly, zoning in on the blue shall still hanging around my shoulders. "Agent Crippen."

"Sir," I replied evenly, trying to match his eerily calm tone. Reverting to old habits, I stood straight with my head held high and my hands behind my back. If anyone had been around to see me, they would know that I was a well-groomed solider.

"Agent Crippen." Fury's voice held more than a touch of irritation as he fixed me with another hard stare. "Can you tell me _where _in your assignment that it was written that you were to become Dr. Banner's _girlfriend_?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," I snapped sharply, losing my stiff position when I crossed my arms over my chest. Suddenly, the way I had said that dawned on me. _'Methinks the lady doth protest too much'_. A blush crept up my throat, but I held my ground and looked back at Fury just as intently.

He got to his feet at that, bobbing his head in an almost sassy way. "Oh, really?" He did the head bob thing again. "You have been escorting him as he visits patients for almost a week now. You're wearing a scarf he bought for you because 'it matched your eyes', he's had his hands on you all night, and every time you two look at each other, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," he spat sarcastically. With a snort of disgust, he shook his head. "You have gotten to close to this situation to handle it properly. You're being reassigned."

No. No, this couldn't be happening. Reassigned? Leaving? Warm and fuzzy? My head started pounded, and my heart throbbed noisily in my chest. The world started to spin. Bruce. I didn't want to leave him, _couldn't_ leave him. I searched desperately for something to convince Fury that I could still handle this. "I've... I've saved his life. Twice!" I cried, my breathing growing ragged.

"Oh, I _heard _about that," Fury said roughly. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused? Ross lit a fire under my ass. There were threats to shut us down. You _killed _an American solider!"

"They shot me!"

"_After _you _killed _him!" Fury looked absolutely, well, _furious _now. His hands were twitching by his sides, like he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around my neck. His shoulder's were tense, and his lip was curled upwards in a snarl. "We've decided that there's a better place for you, one where you are _encouraged _to become involved. We've assembled a specialty team to take Banner from here."

As much as I wanted to shy away from the seething look he was giving me, I refused to give him the satisfaction, and instead looked him in the eye. On the outside, I knew I looked like I had calmed back down, like the professional agent of SHIELD I was supposed to be. But that was just a mask I had put on.

Inside, my emotions were swirling. I couldn't believe this. I didn't _want _to believe it. I'd been avoiding thinking about what would happen when the time came for us to go our separate ways, and I was not, in any sense of the word, prepared for this. My heart ached at the thought of spending a night without him, of his grin _not _being the first thing I saw in the morning. I'd become dangerously attached, and down all connections were being severed. I felt like... like I as going to be sick.

But I held steady.

"Yes, sir," I said through clenched teeth. Then, my attempts to stay strong faltered. "Can I... can I say goodbye, at least?"

Fury's nostrils flared out. Without answering, he turned on one heel and stormed down the alley, black leather trench coat swinging from side to side. "Wheels up at oh-two-hundred."

He left me standing there, numb, in the middle of the alley.

I had just over three hours to say goodbye.

* * *

I told him that I wasn't feeling good, that that meat-on-a-stick hadn't really agreed with me. The perturbed look he gave me tore me apart, and I almost started crying, right then and there, as he wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me back to the place I had come to call home.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, voice laced with worry as we stepped through the doorway. I tried to turn away, but he caught my arm and pulled me back in front of him. Still refusing to meet his gaze, I bit my lip, looking down. His large, rough hand cupped my chin, then gently nudged it upwards so that I could look no where but into his eyes. Lips parting slightly, he tilted his head to the side, brows drawing together in concern. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"I don't - " My voice, which was thicker than normal, caught in my throat. "I'm just tired," I whispered hoarsely. "Please. Can we just... go to bed?" Hot tears started to prick at the back of my eyes, and I forced myself out of his grip so that he wouldn't see.

After a reluctant pause, he released me. Without looking back at him, I stumbled across the floor, my head spinning and my breathing rapid. I couldn't do this. My heart was already breaking and I was here still here. With him. Bruce was still there, but it felt like he was miles apart. I wouldn't be able to do. I wouldn't be able to say it. Slipping into bed, I curled up like a small child.

I couldn't say it. 'Goodbye' was just too… permeant. It was likely that we would never see each other again, and that would be easiest, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted for there to be chance, a chance that we would meet again. So I wouldn't say it. i refused to.

Bruce's warmth alerted me to his presence, but he didn't pull me in like he normally did; he was worried that he had upset me somehow, that I wanted my space. I didn't though. I wanted to be close to him, one last time. Rolling over, I faced him, just like I had the first night we'd slept like this. Our breaths intertwined, but this time I noticed he was breathing just as hard as I was. Not making eye contact with him, I slid my hands across the space between us, then placed it on his chest.

Just like I'd imagined it would be, his chest hair was soft, and a small smile flickered across my face when I touched it. That wasn't what I was focusing on, though; I wanted to feel his heartbeat. It was strong and fast, just like mine was.

I closed my eyes, entangling my fingers in his chest hair and pulling myself a little closer. My heart jumped when I heard Bruce's breath hitched, but I didn't move, even when he put his arm around me. Soon, my breathing slowed, and I looked like I was asleep - but I was far from it. This was the most awake I had ever been. Not only was how close Bruce was making my nerves feel alive with electricity, but the dreading of leaving was gnawing at my very core.

I waited to hear Bruce's soft snoring, signaling that he was asleep, but it didn't come as soon as I thought it would. Instead, I felt his fingers graze my forehead. It took all of my will power to not stiffen. "Ryan?" he asked softly. I said nothing.

Brushing my hair out of my face, Bruce ran the back of his hand down the side of my cheek. "Thank you," he breathed, thinking that I couldn't hear him. "For everything. I owe you so much..." There was a tenderness to his voice that made my heart melt and crack into a thousand tiny pieces at the same time.

_Stop this, Bruce. Shut up right now. Stop talking. I can't hear you. Now is not a good time to get sentimental. Go be sarcastic and wry. Please. This is killing me. _

"I was in a bad place, and you helped me out. I got low, and you lifted me higher. At first, I wasn't sure if... if I could trust you. It had been a long time since I'd met someone who didn't lie to me." _Oh, my God, stop_. I was fighting tears, choking back sobs. Why was he saying this _now_? "But I trust you completely. I trust you with my life." He paused and let out a little laugh. "You've already saved it once. I wouldn't be here without you."

Suddenly, he was breathing in my ear, so close that our faces were touching. I wanted to hold my breath to keep it from becoming loud and ragged, but I knew I had to stay calm, like I was dead to the world. On the inside, though, my heart jack-hammered away, and something stirred, forcing me to suppress a shudder.

"_I love you_."

No. _No_. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, _no_. He did not just say that. I was imagining things. It wasn't true, it couldn't be. He _couldn't_. Not when I was about to leave. Not now. He couldn't _do _this to me! Once again, I found myself fighting tears, but I knew I wouldn't last long; it was an uphill battle, and with each moment that I was near him like this, I lost ground, slowly sliding back down towards the dark.

"I love you," Bruce repeated, a little more confident this time. "And maybe one day, I'll tell you." His warm, soft lips pressed against my forehead then. I thought I was going to lose it. "Goodnight, Ryan."

Minutes later, his soft snores reached my ears, and I broke down. Silent tears streamed down my face, and I trembled lightly in his grip. I stayed like that for a long, long time, waiting to calm down before I would finally leave.

Oh, God, how couldI leave now, when I had just heard... _that_? I knew I had to, but I wanted to stay with every fiber of my being. But I was afraid of what would happen if I disobeyed orders again. SHIELD knew where Bruce was; would they take him in, tell him who I really was and let him know that I had been lying to him the entire time so that he would tell me to leave, that he never wanted to see me again, and I would have no where to go _but _SHIELD? I wouldn't put that kind of sick, twisted shit past Fury. For all the good he claimed to do, the man could be a manipulative bastard sometimes.

I didn't want to hurt Bruce, but all of the options I had would cause him pain. It was better this way, better for him to think that I had just left in the middle of the night, better to let him wonder what had happened than for him to know that I was working with the people that wanted to turn him into a weapon. He would be hurt and betrayed with either way, but this... this was better. I had to tell myself that, or I would never be able to do it. Slipping out from underneath his protective arm, I leaned back on my knees, going into a crouching position.

A small, bitter snort escaped my lips as I glanced up at the window. What seemed like a lifetime ago, I had _dreamed _of crawling through that window and escaping. Now, that window symbolized a door I was closing, a place I could never go back to once I'd left. Surprisingly, tears didn't come then; no, I'd gotten that out of my system. I was too numb for crying now.

Without looking back, without pausing or hesitating, I launched myself through the window, forward-rolling onto the ground to soften my fall. Getting up, I brushed myself off rather casually, refusing to turn around. I stared straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, I started off.

With that, I disappeared into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_It's hiding in the dark_

_It's teeth are razor sharp_

_There's no escape for me_

_It wants my soul, it wants my heart_

- _Monster_, Skillet

"Trail-mix?"

Snapping out of my reverie, I turned to look over at the man who had spoke, Agent Clint Barton. Like me, Clint had been assigned to watch and protect the people who were working on project PEGASUS; Fury had thought that the combination of his long-range and my close-range would allow for maximum surveillance, but as I went out of my way to spend most of my time up here in the Hawk's Nest (as everyone so affectionately called it), that had sort of ruined his plan.

Which was fine by me. I didn't owe the guy. If anything, he owed _me_. Screw the fact that he was my superior and I was supposed to follow his orders.

I glanced down at the bag Clint was offering me, then looked back to hime with a raised eyebrow. "Did you already pick out the M&Ms?" My voice sounded weary, and I was sure that the half-smile I shot him was tired, too; I hadn't been sleeping well since I'd returned to SHIELD.

"Yeah." Clint shook the bag a bit, then added, "There's still some raisins in here, though."

My blue eyes met his gray-green ones as I gave him a skeptical look.

Clint shrugged and nodded. "I don't want 'em, either." Deciding that, since all the M&Ms were gone, the bag was absolutely useless, Clint tossed it to the side, where it landed with a thud among the rest of his little collection. The agent, who's alias was Hawkeye (which gave us a lot of good material for 'nest' jokes), keep a number of odd things up here: newspapers, broken arrows, gum, a sandwich that had been here longer than I had, and a coil of black rope that we used to get up to and down from the catwalk.

Sighing, I leaned forward and rested my chin on the cool metal railing we sat behind. Below us, scientists scrambled from station to station, scribbling down notes and stopping in front of a bright blue cube to make observations. The Tesseract - that was what the scientist in charge of Project PEGASUS, Erik Selvig, called it. He also called it 'she', like it was a living person. Quite frankly, the guy worried me. He was always here, even when everyone else had gone home. The cube thing, it was an obsession. Sometimes days would go by before he remembered that he had skipped lunch... seventy-two hours ago. And, even after all his hard work, Selvig still hadn't even managed to find a way to tap the Tesseract's power, which was the whole point of the project.

Sometimes I wondered if that was even what Selvig was focusing on.

"Have you ever been in love?" Clint asked out of the blue.

Spluttering, I spun around to face him. He would do that sometimes; we would sit in comfortable silence for hours, and then he'd break it with a random question ("Is Disneyland all it's cracked up to be?", "What's with women and shoes? And matching purses? And matching in general?", "If I grew suddenly grew a tail, would that be a turn-on, or a turn-off?"). But this one was more personal than anything else he'd ever asked before, and I thought I knew why. His partner, his _real _partner, had just been sent off on another mission today, and he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye, because he'd ben stuck here babysitting scientists with me. While I'd never actually met or seen 'Nat', I'd heard enough about her from Clint. He cared for her - more than he was willing to admit, I thought.

"No," I replied, but the answer tasted like a bitter lie on my tongue. "Love isn't real; it's just a bunch of chemicals and hormones going off in our brain that signal that you've found a potential partner." OK, wow. That was a load of bull.

Clint nodded thoughtfully. "So, he was a scientist, then."

"_What_?" I spat, eyes widening in shock.

"A scientist," Clint repeated. "Come on, you and I both know that that's the answer that anyone who fell hopelessly in love with a science geek would give."

I shifted uncomfortably, my face growing redder in redder. Maybe it was true, what he said, but I had spent over a month trying _not _to think about... _him_ (in vain, most of the time). It just... it hurt too much. I directed the conversation to him. "What about you, huh? Have _you _ever been in love?"

A dark look crossed Clint's face. "Love is for children." Even to me, it sounded like a rehearsed answer that he didn't believe.

"So," I said, using the same tone he had, "you're a pedophile, then."

The look on his face was priceless. We stared at each other for a moment, both of us trying hard not to laugh. Then, we lost control, giving in and and laughing like we were actually having fun. I don't think either of us had really, truly laughed in over three weeks (the last time being when Phil Coulson, our 'handler', had found out that Captain American had been found alive in the ice, and had been reduced to fanboy tears).

"_Shit_!" an angry voice sounded from bellow. Immediately sobering up, Clint and I both shot to our feet, eyes locking in on the scene below. The scientists were shouting commands to each other, sprinting around and readjusting things on various contraptions. Erik Selvig leaned down in front of the Tesseract. The blue cube seemed to grow and expand like it was breathing, little wisps of blue energy coming off of it. Without warning, the entire building began to shake, and Clint and I had to grab onto the railing to keep from falling off the edge.

I glanced at Clint and gestured to a coil of black rope that sat there with the rest of the objects in the Hawk's Nest. "I'll go check it out," I offered. With all the precision of a solider, Clint knotted the rope to the railing and tossed the other end over the side. Slipping on a pair of fingerless leather gloves, I grabbed onto the end of the rope, then stepped casually off the side of the catwalk. The ground rushed up to meet me.

The moment my feet hit the ground, I started walking towards Selvig. "Doctor," I called, and his head whipped around, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

Selvig ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. "Well, she's... misbehaving. She's growing stronger as we speak, emitting low doses of gamma radiation. Shouldn't be too harmful, but - " The building shook lightly again. As soon as the tremor stopped, Selvig's eyes widened in fear, and he let out a low, nervous chuckle. "I stand corrected. You may want to alert someone."

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, a familiar, monotone voice sounded from off to the left. "What's going on here?" A grin crossed my face when I placed the blank voice with the blank face. Before I even turned to face him, I knew that Agent Phil Coulson had arrived.

Dressed in his usual 'Men in Black' attire, Coulson crossed over to where Selvig and I were standing in a few quick strides. His smile eyes narrowed when he looked from the astrophysicist to the cube. "Doctor Selvig, explain."

Selvig looked even more uncomfortable than when I had confronted him, but I couldn't blame him for that - Coulson, with his emotionless expression and his tendency to keep a taser on his person at all times, could be even more intimidating that Fury when he wanted to be. Now was one of those times. "I, uh, well." The doctor wrung his hands, looking back at the Tesseract desperately. "You see, she's growing in power, and she's getting a bit... unsteady." Seeing Coulson's skeptical glare, Selvig quickly added, "Of course, we're in no immediate danger - "

He was cut off by a burst of light from the Tesseract, and another shock ran through the building. Coulson and I were both thrown off balance, stumbling to the side and grabbing onto each other's shoulders to keep from falling. As soon as he regained his balance, Coulson broke away from me, already pulling out his walkie-talkie.

"The shock waves threatening to bring down the building would say otherwise, doctor." Then brining his walkie-talkie to his lips as he strode off, he said, "Someone get me Director Fury."

After a moment's pause, I turned back to Selvig, and informed him bluntly, "I think you're in trouble."

* * *

"Talk to me, doctor." I bristled at the sound of Fury's voice, hatred rising up in my throat like bile. Was it unreasonable for me to despise the man for making me leave... _him_? Maybe. But I knew how to hold a grudge, so I didn't expect for that to change anytime soon. Turning away from the panicked scientists I'd been watching, I folded my arms over my chest as I saw Fury come walking right to the platform where Selvig and the Tesseract were.

"The Tesseract is... misbehaving," the European scientist tried to explain, using the same metaphor he'd given me with Fury.

The spy did his sassy head bobble as he stared at Selvig in disbelief. "Is this funny to you, doctor?"

Selvig gave Fury a bitter laugh as he looked up from one of his monitors. "Not at all. This is very serious." Without warning, he began walking around the room, checking more screens. "She's been giving off energy surges for the past hour - she's growing stronger each time."

"Is it anything dangerous?"

"She's emitting low dosages of gamma radiation, but nothing harmful."

Fury looked at the doctor intently and purposefully. "That can be very harmful."

I knew exactly what he was referring to, and although I tried to fight it, an image of Bruce clouded my vision. For a moment, all I could see was him, grinning down at me wryly, offering me a hand to help me get out of bed, his beautiful brown eyes shinning.

Blinking rapidly, I shook my head to clear my sight. The vision faded, but the hollow feeling in my chest refused to leave.

Trying a new method this time, Fury walked towards Selvig again. "Have you tried cutting the power source?" he questioned, narrowing his eye his slightly, suspicion dripping from his words. When I realized what Fury was implying, my blood turned to ice in my veins; was Selvig leaving the Tesseract on on purpose, just so he could see what it was like when all of it's power was being utilized? The thing, this project, was his life. He was obsessed.

I wouldn't put it past him.

Instead of clamming up like he'd been caught in the act, Selvig just scoffed, like the idea of cutting the power was preposterous. "She's a power source, director. If we cut the power, she turns it back on again. There's no point."

There was the sassy head thing again, this time accompanied by Fury putting his fists on his hips. "So you're saying that this thing is growing more and more powerful, and there's nothing we can do to stop it?" Before Selvig could reply, Fury rubbed his temples and snapped, "Where's Agent Barton?"

"The Hawk?" Selving glanced behind him, shaking his head and laughing bitterly. "In his nest."

With a little growl, Fury brought his walkie-talkie to his lips. "Barton, get down here."

Clint was by our sides in a flash, standing at attention like the better solider.

"You're supposed to be keeping an eye on these people," Fury reminded him.

"I see better from a distance."

Fury's head swiveled back and forth, a bit like an owl's as he looked between the two of us. "What have you got for me?"

"Everyone's clean," I replied automatically. "No one's tampered with the thing. And these people have no lives outside of this project, so it's unlikely that they brought someone from the outside in here to interfere with it."

Clint nodded in assent, then crossed his arms, glancing over his shoulder at the Tesseract. "If someone's messing with it, they're not doing it from this end."

"What do you mean, 'this end'?" Fury snapped, voicing what I had been wondering.

"Well." Pausing, Clint shrugged his shoulders and gave the blue cube another once-over. "It's essentially a door, right? Doors open from both sides."

Suddenly, a bright blue beam shot from the Tesseract and across the room, the force knocking us backwards. Shaking off the shock, I scrambled to my feet and reached into my pocket. I drew out a saber handle, almost identical to the one I had dropped, but this one was different. This one was better, I'd been told, the latest in Stark's patented arc-reactor technology. After pressing the button on the bottom of the handle, the hand-guard spread out and encased my hand with the sound of metal passing against metal. Then, a bright blue beam of pure energy flickered to life in place of a blade, the whole thing humming slightly.

They said that Stark had been experimenting in solidifying energy from his arc-reactor, but really, I just thought he wanted an excuse to build something that strongly resembled a lightsaber. That's basically what I was holding now: a lightsaber.

Crouching down into a fighting stance, my blade out in front of me, I watched with wide-eyes as bursts of light traveled down the beam coming from the Tesseract, illuminating the room. The entire room was quaking, and I had to latch onto the wall to keep from loosing my balance. Next to me, Clint and Fury were doing the same thing, eyes glued to where the energy seemed to be pooling up.

Just as soon as the phenomenon started, the light faded, leaving in its place a smoking figure. It's long black hair was slicked back, and his hand he clutched a curious looking spear. Or was it a scepter? Well, it was a stick with a blade at the end, and a ball of blue energy that matched that of the Tesseract's exactly in the center of it. Slowly, the figure rose from his kneeling position.

Agents brandishing guns passed me, cautiously moving to surround the thing. Without even having to turn around, I knew Fury was signaling them to do so. A sinking feeling started in my stomach. I had a bad, bad feeling about this.

I knew what was going to happen before it did; the figure's leg muscles coiled up like a snake about to strike. His head turned slightly to the left, then just to the right as he examined the agent who were trying - and failing - to sneak up on him. A small growl escaped his throat, making me wince in anticipation of what I knew was to come.

The thing leapt from his stance, raising his spear as he flew across the room. His feet his the ground, and at the same moment, the tip of his weapon drove deep into the closest agent's chest. The man whirled around, slashing through two more agents as he did. He tore through them, twelve of the most highly trained soldiers in the country, like they were nothing. I had only caught glimpses of his face, but I had heard the predatory growl and seen the animalistic snarl; the thing was a monster, a cold-blooded killer.

There was the sound of leather on metal as Fury walked out into the center of the room. "Sir," he called in his calm, deep, authoritative voice, "I'm going to have to ask you drop the spear."

The figure tensed. Then without warning, he spun around, spear outstretched, and sent a blast of energy from the sphere on his scepter right at Fury. Clint, the brave idiot with amazing reflexes, shot across the room, tackling Fury and knocking the other man out of the way of the blast.

Tightening my grip on my saber, I spun back around to look at our attacker. I nearly gasped when I saw his face full-on for the first time. His jaw was strong and chiseled, just like his high, sharp cheekbones. With pale skin that border-lined on translucent, his raven hair seemed even darker in contrast, as did the heavy circles under his eyes. His eyes - my breath caught in my throat when I saw his eyes. They were light, emerald green color, unlike any eyes I had ever seen before. And they displayed his emotions clearly; pain, anger, bloodlust, hurt. They had a crazy glint in them, and when he turned his gaze to me, I froze, shivers going up my spine. His look was so intense that I was afraid that he could see right through me, right to my soul and my mind.

A cruel smile played at his thin lips. Straightening up to his full height (which was extremely tall), he banged his scepter on the ground, commanding everyone's attention. It worked beautifully; I couldn't take my eyes off of him, like some invisible force was drawing them there. "I am Loki of Asgard," he announced with a smooth, velvety, slightly accented voice that echoed throughout the lab, "and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

"We have no quarrel with your people." Fury was back on his feet again, fixing Loki of Asgard with his signature, '_do not fuck with me right now_' stare. The eyepatch made it ten times more intimidating, but it didn't seem to affect Loki at all.

Instead, he cocked his head to the side, slightly, taunting Fury. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot."

Under different circumstances, I probably would have laughed at that. While Loki kept his eyes locked on Fury in a stare-off, I slowly started forward, circling around behind him. Fury's one eye darted to where I was, but he continued to verbally spare with the Asgardian, providing me with a distraction. "Are you planning to step on us?"

"I come with _glad _tidings," Loki teased, his voice oddly bitter, "of a world made free."

Fury narrowed his eye. "Free from what?"

Loki scoffed, as if the answer was obvious. "Freedom." I was close now, almost within striking range. Raising my blade, I slowly put one foot down, taking another step closer. "Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart - "

I brought my blade down, but Loki was there, his staff meeting the blue rod of energy and sending sparks flying. Then, with the expertise of a trained warrior, Loki spun the spear around easily in his hands. A sneer forming on his face, he drove it forward towards my heart -

But I knocked it to the side, ducking around its shaft and coming in towards Loki with blinding speed. He was just within my reach, and I knew I had him when I struck out, ready to finish him off.

My blade connected with nothing. Loki had just disappeared. My blood ran cold, and before I could turn around, a hand clamped around my arm, forcing it behind my back. I winced in pain, and felt myself being forced to bend over slightly. Something cool was pressed up against me. Loki.

He breathed down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "You have heart," he breathed, voice laced with venom. Suddenly, with his other hand, he reached out in front of me with his spear, pointing its tip at my chest. "But not for long."

The spear came in contact with my heart.

My vision instantly went black. My heart pounded in my chest, sending adrenaline pumping through me, but there was nothing I could do about it; I was frozen in place, my limbs bound by some invisible force. I had absolutely no control.

_"Oh, I see," _Loki's velvety voice rang out in my ears, _"You think that freedom is life's great _truth_. Foolish girl. You are right on one count, however."_

A series of images flashed through my mind - Captain Blonsky, General Ross, Director Fury. In all the visions, they were yelling at me, commanding me, making my blood boil. They were giving me orders that I refused.

_"You should not have to kneel to those who are beneath you," _ he cooed. _"You are above them, Agent Crippen. What pains they have caused you, what wrongs they have committed." _A blue light appeared in the darkness and began to coil around me the way a python strangles its prey. _"Join me. Now longer will you kneel to the inferior. It is what you want most."_

_No_, I thought back. _Freedom is what I want. Freedom from them, freedom from _you_. _

_"Oh, but dear girl, you were _made _to be ruled."_

I could feel my grip slipping, feel the cold rushing through me. The blue had completely encased me now, but I fought it, trying to get back to reality. No. I would not let this happen, would not let my free will be taken away. _I will be ruled by no one. _

_"You will." _There was a smugness coloring Loki' smooth voice. Once again, I could feel his cold breaths on my neck, and I trembled. The moment I did, the blue light surged forward, closing in around my vision.

As the bright blue fog rolled in, I could just make out Loki's last words to me. _"I have control of your body now, Agent Crippen, and your mind is falling to me as we speak. But it is your soul that I will break, your heart that I will take. And there will be no stopping me."_

Then, everything went blank, covered by the cobalt.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn_  
_But that's alright because I like the way it hurts_  
_Just gonna stand there and hear me cry_  
_But that's alright because I love the way you lie_  
_I love the way you lie_

- _Love The Way You Live_, Eminem ft. Rihanna

Her mind had been a truly fascinating place to enter.

All mortals, being the foolish, naive creatures that they were, thought that freedom was the key to happiness. Lies. Loki knew better. He knew that freedom was something that the simple mind of a mortal simply could not handle. They functioned better when their paths were chosen for them, when they were ruled.

All mortals lives under the illusion that they desired freedom, but her illusions were stronger than most. Her disdain for authority, her hatred for subjugation, even in its simplest forms, made him grin at her folly. He would show her that to be controlled, to be commanded was what she truly, truly wanted.

Oh, she was under his control now, yes, but she fought it. Loki could see it in the stiffness of her movements, the way her jaw was clenched in difference. She would follow him without question, yes, but there was still that part of her, deep down, that was aware of what was happening and was fighting it every step of the way. That little conscious part, the part that was still her in her most fundamental form, _that _was the part he would break. And he would have fun doing it.

The others, pah, they were _dull_, mindless beings who had reached their full potential and still came up short. Their entire, weak race was like that. What was the phrase the mortals used? The light was on but no one was home. Yes, that was it, and it accurately described the humans. They built bright cities, beacons of light, but for what? To show off their 'prowess'? Bah. Ridiculous. That was _nothing_ to be proud of. When Loki ruled, and he would rule, he would build monuments in the sky that would be things to be _truly _content with.

_Monuments in his name. _Loki's lips curled upward at the thought. Millions of mortals, bowing down to their rightful king, the worthy son, to _him_. Humans, down on their knees, in their correct place - beneath him. He was a god, was he not? It was only right that he be seated far, far above this inferior race.

"Sir." Loki turned to see another one of the agents he had compromised, an archer by the name of Clinton Barton, said. The man stood at attention, his bow held tightly by his side. Like all of the other minions Loki had added to his collection, Barton's glowing blue eyes stared outwards without seeing. "The perimeter is secure."

"Excellent," Loki purred. "Do make sure that it _stays _that way - you and your men are to ensure that anyone who comes within half a league of this facility does not leave to tell the tale." After being waved away by Loki's slender hand, Barton strode off, shouting orders to the working class men. Immediately, they left their posts, fanning out and exiting the damp underground space where their base now was. Those who were men of science rather than the more physical beings, continued on with their work, swarming around Selvig.

From out of the corner of his eye, Loki saw a long swish of blonde, and a predatory smile crossed his face. "Oh, Agent Crippen," he sing-songed. "There's no need for you to go with them. Come, join me." Rising to his feet, Loki gestured for the woman to follow him. He glided through the throng of scientists (whose knowledge was so limited that the scholars of Asgard would have laughed in their faces), and stopped when he reached a heavy metal door. This room, the room that was hidden behind this door, was his favorite part of his new... residence. Like a spider waiting for his prey to crawl into his web, Loki patiently stood by the door until Crippen had finally reached his side.

She was not entirely repulsive. Compared to the beauties on Asgard, she was plain, but for a mortal, he supposed she was attractive. Her features were symmetrical, her nose seemingly delicate while her lips were full - or rather, they _would _be full, had she not pressed them together tightly. A sign of displeasure, he knew. Oh, how she did not want to be here. And how that pleased him, to know that she knew she was helpless. Her crystal blue eyes stared ahead, not looking directly at him. "Yes, sir?"

"I want a word with you, agent," Loki replied smoothly. Deciding to test her, he reached out and lazily ran his long fingers along her collar bone. While her jaw tightened, she did shiver under his touch. That same wolfish grin spread across his face. Pushing the door open, Loki leaned down and breath against her neck, "After you." Once again, against her will, she shivered. Oh, yes, he was going to enjoy this.

The room he followed her after was completely empty, save for a marvelous throne in the center of it. Loki had to suppress a smirk at his handiwork; made of gold, the chair was larger than any on Asgard, and was adorned with glittering green gems. Was is showy? Perhaps, but it was the throne Loki deserved, was it not? After years of being shunned to the darkness, of living in his not-brother's shadow, of being the ignored, cast-aside son, this was what he deserved.

Realizing that his hands had clenched into tight fists, and that his face had contorted into a rather unattractive scowl, Loki straightened up, returning his face to its blank state and clasping his hands behind his back. In a few long strides, he crossed the room, then, his cape flaring out dramatically, he turned and sank down into the seat of his throne, legs parted in his relaxed state. Calling upon his magic, Loki conjured up a - what did the mortals call it? Ah, yes, a martini glass. He brought the chalice to his lips, looking over the rim and down at the mortal girl as he did.

"Agent Crippen." His voice echoed of the walls, filling the large, empty space. "Tell me _everything_."

The girl continued to stare straight ahead. "Sir?"

Loki smirked cruelly, slowly bringing the glass to his lips. Once he had finished, after taking as much time as he pleased, he elaborated. "I wish to know everything you know. About SHIELD, about your dear friend Agent Barton, about your pathetic little race. Tell me your secrets, little one. Tell. Me. _Everything_."

And then the secrets began to tumble from her lips. She divulged everything. Loki learned of the secret organization that was the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Divisions, learned of the one-eyed Nick Fury, of the seemingly unflappable Phil Coulson, and of the hard Maria Hill. Crippen revealed their weaknesses to him, and as the minutes ticked on, he grew more and more impressed with her apparent knowledge. She revealed all she knew about Agent Barton, about his love for the one known as the Black Widow, about his brother who had turned on him, about his time in the army, simply _everything. _

The best part was how he could here the small, conscious part of her scream in resistance while she could do nothing from stopping it. Her body was Loki's to control, but her mind resisted. Her screams... oh, what they _did _to him.

He questioned her about the mortal's resistance force, and that was when things became truly... _interesting_. Apparently, SHIELD Director Fury had been working on assembling a team of 'extraordinary' mortals to help to protect their planet. Of course, the efforts, as valiant as they were, would be futile, but Loki supposed that they might be a wrinkle in his plans. He drilled the girl on them, trying to find out all he could.

When he did find out more about troupe of misfits, he had to suppress a laugh. _This _was the best Fury could come up with? How droll. A man out of his time, still living seventy years in the past, and haunted by the memories of those he failed to save. A mortal man of iron who thought himself a god, and, just as Loki was planning to do, had built a monument in the sky with his name on. Loki decided then and there that this 'Stark Tower' would be the first building he brought to its knees.

The other members of the team were even more laughable than the first. It seemed as though Fury had run out of better options, for the other members of his team included Agent Crippen herself, the compromised Agent Barton, Natasha Romanoff (the woman who was also the Black Widow), and Loki's own not-brother, Thor, who was stuck worlds away.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

But then Loki sensed something - she was not lying, but Crippen was holding something back, refraining from telling the entire truth. Rage boiled up inside of Loki, and he rose to his feet, fixing the girl with a glare that would make any warrior flinch. "Tell me, Crippen," he spat. "What is it that you are trying to hide from me?" His words were laced with poison, yet he kept his voice low and steady, under control.

"There is someone else that Fury was planning on recruiting," the girl admitted slowly, through ground teeth. But there was something else in her voice besides the regret that she always spoke with while under his influence - longing and sorrow.

"Oh?" Loki arched his jet black eyebrows. "Someone else? Someone you... _care _about, Agent Crippen?"

The girl stiffened, but did not say anything else. Rising from his chair, Loki strode down the steps until he was standing right in front of her. From there he began to circle round her, trailing his fingertips along the exposed skin of her neck as he did. "Speak, pet. Tell me about him."

"His name is Bruce Banner..." And from there, there was nothing she did not reveal. By the time she finally fell silent, Loki knew all there was to know about the man-beast. How his desire for glory and arrogance had led him to become the monster he was, how his failure had ruined his life, how he grew low, desperate, and how he sought an end, yet failed at that as well. Oh, he had made a weapon for the ages, but that was had not been his _intention_ - it seemed that _everything _ended in catastrophe for the good doctor. The fun Loki would have, messing with the beast's mind (assuming he had enough of one to be trifled with).

And even more fun? Messing with the monster's _heart_.

Because it appeared that the brute had fallen for Loki's dear Agent Crippen. To make matters even _more _interesting, it looked as though Crippen returned his feelings. _Hmm_, Loki mused, _Beauty and the Beast. How quaint. _

Loki stopped his pacing to stand directly behind the girl, leaning forward and breathing down her neck once more. "And tell me, girl, what is he to you? Has this beast captured your heart, earned your love?"

"Bruce is not a beast," Crippen replied tightly, her jaw going tense. Just as she looked as though she was going to say more, she clamped her mouth shut.

"Tell me," Loki urged in his velvety smooth voice. When that failed, he leaned in and pressed his cold lips to her neck. Instantly, she tensed, a gasp escaping her lips. "Tell me," he hissed against her skin, delighting in her discomfort. "Does the beast have your heart?"

The screams of protest that can from her conscious were like a drug to him - he relished them, craved them. They were so loud in his own mind that it almost overpowered everything, and he very nearly missed the answer she breathed. "_Yes_."

At that, Loki drew back suddenly, a laugh escaping his lips and echoing around the room. He continued to laugh, reveling in the fact that he had just found the way to break her. "Thank you for your time, Agent Crippen, you are free to go." Just before she reached the door, he called out to here again, laughter still coloring his voice, "Oh, and Agent Crippen? Do not fear, pet. He will not have your heart for long. _It. Will. Be. Mine._"

As she walked away from him, slamming the door behind her, a plan was already forming in his mind.

Perhaps it was time the beast payed her a visit.

* * *

_The blue fog that I had been struggling to see through finally began to clear, and relief flooded through me, sending a warm feeling through my body. I let out a deep, shaky breath, glad to be rid of the burden of blindness. _

_As the fog began to clear, I blinked rapidly, not believing what I saw. _

_Home._

_Well, not my home, not really, but it was the place I had come to identify as 'home'. I stared up at the beat up, shoddy shack, and I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. That was our house, I knew, but it didn't... it didn't make sense. How could I be here? I was just... where I had been previously? I didn't know. I didn't know anything._

_The only thing I was sure of was that _this _was the place I most wanted to be._

_My legs seemed to move on their own, pumping furiously until I was at the foot of the stairs that led up to the door. Completely ignoring them, I leapt upwards, clearing the levels with ease, and rammed into the door, sending it flying open as I did. "Bruce!" I called, and the eagerness in my voice was so apparent that even I let out a laugh. I hadn't sounded that happy in a long, long time. "Bruce!"_

_There was no immediate response. Calming myself down, I started to scan the room. Everything was in it's place - that is to say, Bruce's books were still strewn all over the floor, wood shavings covered the space around the bed, and the black medical bag was tucked away in the far corner of the room. The only thing missing was the thing I cared most about: Bruce. _

_When I heard a low moan coming from the corner, I whirled around, my heart drumming wildly against my rib cage. Was that him? Was he hurt? "Bruce?"_

_My breath caught in my throat when I saw him, and for a moment, I stood there, choking on air. A cold, numbness flooded through me, making me shiver and gasp and want to scream all at the same time. I couldn't find my voice. My stomach began to churn, and I stumbled forward, putting a hand on the wall for support. Head spinning, I looked down at Bruce, breath growing ragged._

_He was curled up on the floor, naked, and covered sticky, crimson blood. His _own _blood. Cuts and scars covered his entire body, and the stuff leaked from it. It stained his bruised skin, slicked back his hair, and was flecked across his face. When he looked up at me, his eyes weren't the warm brown color I had come to love - they were a cold, soulless black. His lips, scarred like the rest of him, curled up in disdain when he saw me. In that moment, my heart shattered into a million pieces. _

_"_You_," he rasped, all the softness to his voice gone. "You did this to me." There was a soft clicking noise, and I looked down to see that Bruce had a silver revolver clutched in his hand, and it was ready to go. Pushing himself up to a higher position, he continued to look at me with pure and unrestrained loathing. Oh, God, what had I done? Bruce, my Bruce, was gone, this broken thing left in his place. _

_And _I _was to blame. I had broken him._

_Eyes still not leaving mine, Bruce slowly lifted the gun towards his mouth. I wanted to scream at him, to apologize, to tell him what I had refused to admit to myself; I would say anything to get him to stop, but my mouth refused to form the words I needed to talk him off the ledge. Instead, all I could do was stare at him, horror frozen in place on my face, and tears running down my cheeks. Oh, God, I couldn't watch - but I also couldn't look away. _

_Bruce's lips curled up in disgust, and when he spoke the next time, each word was like a knife sinking into my heart. "_I_. _Hate_. _You_."_

_As his finger tightened on the trigger, I finally managed to find my voice. The blood-curdling scream that came from my mouth filled the room, reverberating off the walls and hitting me ten-fold. A bang mixed in with my scream, and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing that I wouldn't be able to bear looking. Little bits of flesh, blood, and other matter splattered on my face, making my stomach heave again. _Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, _Bruce_.

_Without warning, my legs gave out from under me, and I fell to my hands and knees. I retched, over and over again, tears streaming down my face as the heaving and the sobbing racked my body. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening. I gasped, desperate for air. _Oh, God, oh, God.

_A snarl made me look up, and when I did, I did a double take. Bruce wasn't dead. No, he was still alive and kicking - literally. I watched in shock as he failed around, blood still seeping from every cut, still oozing from the back of his head. His voice deepened as he let out a growl that shook me to my very core. Muscles bubbling, body elongating, Bruce through his head back roared. _

_His skin was green. _

_Terror flooded through me, and I tried to scramble to my feet, but once again, I found myself rooted in place. I jerked about wildly, trying to break free. It was no use; I was stuck. A roar tore through the air, and I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. _

_The roar was replaced by wicked, velvety laughter. _

_Loki. _

That little shit_._


	11. Chapter 11

_**WARNING: TRIGGER, NON-DESCRIPTIVE NON-CON**_

**Chapter Eleven**

_Now the nightmare's real_

_Now Dr. Horrible is here_

_To make you quake with fear_

_To make the whole world kneel_

_And I won't feel a thing_

- _Everything You Ever_, Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog

Loki had not summoned Crippen back into his chambers (as he was now calling the large, mostly empty room) since the day before. He'd been waiting, biding his time. He longed to see how she would react to the little dream he had sent her last night, but he knew that the longer he waited, the more satisfying the release of the build up of harbored emotions would be. The thought of her exploding at him made his blood boil - in an oddly satisfying way.

Resting his hand on his cheek, Loki lazily looked down at the man standing before him, watching Clint Barton with a mild interest. The archer was knowledgable, yes, but at this point, he was only revealing what Crippen had already revealed to him the previous day. However, the things the man had revealed about the Black Widow... A smirk crossed Loki's face as he began to plot.

Suddenly, Loki felt his patience come to an abrupt end. "That's enough, Agent Barton." He stood, banging his staff on the ground as he did. After a sharp nod, Barton turned on one heel and began to stride off. "Oh, Barton? Send in Agent Crippen. I have... matters of the upmost importance to discuss with her."

"Yes, sir." With that, the former SHIELD went to send his comrade-in-arms into the lion's den without batting a crystal blue eye. A shiver ran through Loki as he was reminded once again of the extent of his power. He could bend others' wills to match his own... even on Asgard, he had not yet come across a spell so binding and complete as this. Tightening his grip possessively around the shaft of his staff, Loki's eyes narrowed in on the door, waiting for Agent Crippen to make her entrance.

She would not keep him long. No, she had no choice in the matter.

When she did finally push through the door and into the room, a smile began to play at Loki's lips. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that the dream had effected her in just the way he had intended for it to. As she walked towards him, her movements were tense, and it was quite obvious that she did not want to be here.

"You called for me, sir?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. With an eyebrow arched skeptically like that, Loki found it hard not to be impressed with her boldness; not only was she fighting his control, but she was also brave (or stupid) enough to stand up to him, to speak to him, a god and a king, in that tone. She was a fighter, this one - and that would make breaking her all the more fun for him.

"I did indeed," he purred. Rising to his feet, Loki leisurely descended down the stairs, twirling his scepter in his hands. When he reached her level, he looked her over once, and was amused to see that she did not shy away from his rather intense gaze. Then, he turned on his heel and began to walk away from her, a cold smile playing at his thin lips. Pleasure rippled through him as he imagined how her voice would sound when her asked her his next question: broken, lost, devastated, defeated. He wanted to remember that sound always. With his back to her, he smiled slightly, and ask, "Did you sleep well last night?"

To be perfectly honest, he'd been expecting tears or some other expression of extreme sorrow. So, when she let out a little snarl, he froze. "_You're a monster_," she snapped, hatred coloring her voice.

Something inside of Loki snapped. _I am the monster people tell their children about at night. _With an animalistic growl, he whirled around, raising his hand to strike her. The back of his hand collided with the side of her cheek, producing an oddly satisfying sound, and the girl flew backwards, skidding across the floor.

Loki was upon her in a flash. He placed his boot right on top of her chest to prevent her from moving, adding pressure as she struggled. When she glared up at him, her eyes were no longer glowing blue with the power of his scepter, but that didn't matter - he was still in control. He pushed further down, not even blinking at the sound of one of her ribs cracking. Gripping his boot with both hands, Crippen tried to push him off of her. Loki simply laughed cruelly.

"You have _no idea_," he hissed, leaning down of his bent knee to come closer to her. Ice began to pump through his veins, and he could feel the frost taking over. He did not have to look at his hands to know that his skin was turning a deep shade of blue, or to see his face in the mirror to know that his eyes had grown blood red and that fangs were elongating in his mouth. Beneath him, Crippen's eyes widened at the sight of his new form. Ignoring her struggles, Loki drove his foot down further, making the reawakened SHIELD agent wheeze.

"I was _made _from lies," Loki snarled, spitting at little in her face. "I was stolen from a _living hell_ and brought into another one, one that was _disguised _as a heaven. Oh, I am sure that for most of its residents, it was a _wonderful _place to live. But I lived in the shadows of the realm, never seeing the sunlight because it was always _blocked_ - blocked by my idiotic _brother_, blocked by his friends who followed him blindly, blocked by my bastard father who never bothered to give me a _second glance_. And when the time came that I uncovered the truth, I was _deemed unworthy_. A monster in my father's eyes, in _everyone's _eyes, they cast me out, the rightful _king _of Asgard.

"So, you are _right_, Agent Crippen. I _am _a _monster_."

The terror that shone brightly in her eyes sent a surge of power coursing through Loki, making him shudder in delight. _Pathetic, weak mortal_, he thought with a grin. _And now I have shown her her place. _For emphasis, Loki leaned further down and bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling though his chest.

Suddenly, the corners of Crippen's mouth curled upwards until she was smirking at him. Before Loki could even react to that, he let out a hiss as the girl, who had been clutching his ankle, twisted her hands to the side violently. There was a cracking sound and Loki felt pain shoot up his leg. More surprised than anything else, the Frost Giant stumbled backwards, which allowed Crippen to scramble to her feet.

Fists held in front of her face, Crippen made to move towards him. She punched at him, but Loki, being the god that he was, caught her fist. He twisted it to the side, relishing in her grunt of pain as she started to crumble and twist with it. Then, with his other hand, he grabbed her face and pulled her close to him. "You will lose," he taunted, "because I will _break you_." Lips curling upward in a snarl, he pushed her back down to the ground again.

In an instant, he was on top on her, straddling her waist. To keep her from escaping, he grabbed both of her hands and pinned them above her head in one of his own, then, leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck. She shuddered. Without warning, Loki bit down, making her cry out in pain. Soon, the rusty blood filled his mouth, and he pulled back, spitting it in her face. She opened her mouth to splutter, giving him the opportunity to claim her lips.

His mouth moved furiously against her still, taut onea. He bit and nibbled at her lips, making them swollen and spilt, but she did not relent. Finally, growing tired of that game, Loki used his free hand to tear through the fabric of her shirt. She gasped, automatically moving to knee him in the chest. With a growl at her resistance, Loki dug his nails into her side, drawing more blood and making her whimper. Her strength was failing now. Oh, how she was growing _weak_.

Loki ran his mouth over every patch of exposed skin, bitting, nipping, and licking as he went. Adrenaline pumped through him as she struggled beneath him, trying to fight the fact that part of her, the part she could not control, was enjoying this. Her face remained frozen in a look of absolute hatred, and he could hear her mentally scream obscenities at him, but her body... her body reacted to his touch in a way that made him feel _powerful_.

She was bruised and bloodied, but he was not done with her, not yet. He was merely finished playing with his food - now, it was time for the main course.

* * *

He left her there, crumpled up on the floor. Standing up to admire his handiwork, he couldn't help but suppress a grin - he had won.

Bruises covered her body, which was slick with sweat and blood. The scars would forever mark that _he_ had been the one to beat her, to destroy her, to take her. She trembled, like a lost child, her hands curled up into useless little fists. He watched her, laughing mercilessly as she tried to push herself up off the ground, only for her arms to give out from under her, sending her crashing back down.

Looming over her, Loki rolled her over by kicking her with his boot. She did nothing to stop, could _do _nothing to stop him. Instead, she glared up at him with such a fire in her eyes that for the briefest of moments, Loki felt a flicker of fear. But then he remembered that she was nothing but a useless, silly, _mere mortal_, and nothing she could do would be of any consequence to him. He rolled his staff about in his hands casually, as if he had _not _just done the unspeakable.

"You are broken," he told her, satisfaction laced in his tone.

Her lips curled upward in disdain, and when she spoke, though her voice was harsh and gravely, he could still hear the anger, the hatred, and... was that _pity_? A mortal, a foolish human being was _pitying _him, a _god_? Loki scoffed at the very idea.

"Not as broken as you," she retorted, a bitter smile crossing her face.

Fury boiled up inside of him, but this time, he did not show his rage. Instead, he allowed for the heat of anger to banish the frost that covered his heart, making his skin revert to it's usual parlor, turning him back into his preferred form.

Loki spun around on his heel, bending over briefly to pick up his discarded scepter. An idea had struck, a perfectly horrible, _brilliant _idea. One that would, to quote the humans, add 'insult to injury'.

"Where I am from," Loki began, "the All-Father has an elite group of winged warrior-maidens known as the Valkyrie. They are the ones who chose who dies in battle - they are, essentially, the bringers of death." At that, he pivoted one-hundred eighty degrees so that he was looking directly at Crippen, who had finally managed to stagger to her feet. "You will be my Valkyrie."

He reached forward, extended the staff, and grinned when it came in contact with her chest. The struggle for power ended much sooner than the last time, her eyes going solid black before returning to the glowing, crystalline blue that signified that she was powerless to his will. Instantly, her knees gave out from beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground, exhausted from their previous encounter and from the mental battle.

Loki's eyes shown with malice as he smiled down at her. Here she was, kneeling before him, just as the rest of her kind soon would. The feeling of power that rushed through him was almost over-whelming - he liked it. "You _preformed_ well, Agent Crippen," he whispered, "and so, you shall be rewarded. I am going to give you the gift of the Valkyries."

Ancient energy swirled up inside of him and all around him, and Loki focused in on it, drawing it to him. As it pooled up inside of him, he thought back to the spell he heard, thought about the All-Father conducting the induction ceremony. Under his breath, he began the ancient chant, his eyes fixed upon Crippen. He did not want to miss a moment of this.

The transformation began.

Crippen started writhe in pain, crying out in pure agony. Her body twisted and contorted as she screamed. The longer it went on, the louder and more raw the screams became - it was like music to Loki's ears; he simply _loved _to here her scream. He watched hungrily as she arched her back, letting out a howl that seemed to make the entire room shake. The skin on her back began to bubble up, turning a darker shade in two patches that ran down the sides of it. The patches rose upwards, something underneath them growing, struggling to break free.

And then they did.

In a spray of blood and skin, a pair of jet black wings burst forth from her back. From her lips came the most unrestrained scream yet, her voice rising countless octaves as she continued to screech in pain. She went on like that until she was breathless, then she collapsed onto the floor, shaking.

Her new blood-soaked raven wings hung over her limply.

Loki simply stared at her, no hint of emotion on his face. "You do not deserve this power, _mortal_," he hissed. "You are not strong enough to wield it. Every time you do, it shall cause you pain. And now that you are mine, I assure you, you will have a great need to use it, and often. This is your reward, this is your punishment. Power comes with a price, and this is the price you shall pay."

He whipped around then, he cape flowing out behind him with a satisfying swish. "You will lead my army into battle, and you will chose who falls." Pausing, he turned slightly to the side so that he could look at her beaten form. "You will chose who_ I tell you_ to chose. And once you have _slaughtered _your friends and your love, I will let you wake, only to take you as my own again once you have seen the damage you have done.

"You are mine."

With that, he left her there.

He had a meeting with the leader of the Chitauri to attend.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_Don't judge a thing 'til you know what's inside it_

_Don't push me, I'll fight it_

_Never gonna give in_

_Never gonna give up_

_No_

- _You Can't Take Me_, Bryan Adams

The world was covered in a blue mist, clouding my vision, but I could still see. Somehow, I could see. I was so relieved I felt like crying. I didn't though; after all I had been through today, _that _was not something to cry over. The pain in my shoulders, however, was.

My entire back felt like it was on fire. As I lay on the ground, struggling to find the strength to get up, all I could focus on was the burning sensation near my new... _wings_. Oh, _God_, _wings_. I had freaking wings. And they hurt, too. It felt like someone had sewn them in, had randomly decided to attach them; it wasn't natural, it wasn't a part of me.

The rusty smell of blood filled my nostrils, bombarding all of my other senses.

Well, not _all _of them. There was no way that it could block out the pain.

I was covered in it, covered in my own blood. My wings were still drenched in it, and they were only just starting to dry. Deciding to test the waters, I concentrated on moving them a bit. A sharp pain shot through me, but I felt the rustle of feathers against my bare back and a little rush of wind as my wings moved up and down. When I let them fall flat again, a stinging sensation stayed.

I automatically assumed that that was going to be a permanent thing, that sting.

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, I managed to get myself into an awkward sort of push-up position, groaning as I did. My bones felt like they'd been crushed to a powder, and every single muscle throbbed. For a brief moment, I glanced down at my skin, but I quickly forced myself to look away. The crescent shaped scars from Loki's nails and the blue, purple, and yellow patches of bruised skin were making me nauseous, and I typically had a hard stomach. Arms shaking, I somehow staggered upwards until I was half-standing, half-swaying. Without meaning for them to, my wings stretched outward to help keep me balance, tugging at the raw skin on my back and sending new stabs of pain through me. I hissed, wobbled dangerously, then lurched forward towards the door.

Something was drawing me back to that bastard. There was a string attached to me, and it pulled me towards Loki like I belonged by his side. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? To be adored by his followers, to have them loyal, no matter what. Whatever his staff had done had made me helpless to his will, even though part of me could still think for myself.

As soon I reached the door, it opened. Clint, just as blue-eyed and lost as I was, stood there at attention. "King Loki requests your presence." Then, blinking rapidly, he looked me up and down. "R - Ryan?" His eyes lingered on my chest, either because that was the most horrifying part of me, or because Loki had destroyed my shirt and I was walking around with just a ruined bra on. You could never quite tell with Clint. "What happened to you?" he asked quietly, and for a moment, it sounded like the archer I'd known before all of this happened.

Clint reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, then seeing the bruises that covered it, thought better of it and pulled back again. I took in a deep breath, knowing that my voice would crack when I spoke. "Loki - "

Something inside Clint snapped, like a trigger. He went straight back to attention, reverting to his stiff solider pose. "King Loki requests your presence." His voice was hollow, empty, just like it had been before he'd momentarily resurfaced. My heart felt heavy.

I felt myself nod, and I stepped past him, part of me eager to find my master and the other part eager to find him so that I could at least _try _to punch him in the face. I was sure that my body wouldn't let me inflict any sort of harm on my king, but it was worth a shot, wasn't it? As I trudged forward, limping more than a little bit, I began to scope the room for Loki. When I finally saw him through the fog, I had to do a double take.

He looked almost... human. With a black suit and tie, an intricate green scarf, and a wool overcoat, he looked more like he was ready for a party than ready for world domination. His staff had been transformed into something like a cane, although the blue orb that held his power was still attached at the end. When he looked up and saw me, a smirk crossed his pale face. He held his hand out to me. Even though touching him was the _last _thing I wanted to do, I took it, because that was what _he _wanted.

"You and I are going to a little _party_, my pet," he cooed softly. Then, he pulled away from me, looking me over intensely. I shuddered under his gaze, knowing full well that he had to imagine nothing. "You look... _dreadful_. And I can't have that, now can I?" Anger rose up inside of me, but I wasn't able to release it. So, that's what he needed me for? To be a play thing and something to look good on his arm?

My mouth remained firmly shut.

Loki had began to circle me, tracing one long finger along the back of my battered neck. I involuntarily flinched away from his touch, and he let out a low growl when I did. Then, letting out a deep breath, he spoke again. "I suppose I should clean you up. You have such a pretty face... it'd be a shame for everyone to see it so marred."

I wanted to tell him that it was his _fucking fault_, that he had been the bastard that was responsible for 'my pretty face' being 'marred'. Instead, I nodded stiffly, sharp pains shooting up my neck as I moved. "Yes, sir. It would be a shame."

"Mmmm," he purred. "I'm glad that you agree." Without warning, he placed both hands on my temples, making me jump. "This may sting... a lot."

Suddenly, it felt like all the blood in my body had turned to ice. Just as quickly as that feeling came, my blood turned to fire, and everywhere burned. I let out a sharp hiss, but Loki's hands didn't leave my temples, not yet. After what felt like hours, he finally released me. I fell to the floor, but... it didn't hurt. A minute ago, everything had been sore and broken and battered and bruised, but now it all felt fine. Had he... had he _healed _me?

I staggered back to my feet, staring at Loki incredulously. He _had _healed me. He'd broken me, and now he'd fixed me. Seriously, what went on in that guy's head?

"Not bad," Loki mused, nonchalantly tapping his finger to his chin, his eyes roving over my mostly exposed body. "But the mortals may raise a few eyebrows if you show up dressed like that." Without even bothering to explain, he snapped his fingers. A cool breeze rushed over me, and suddenly, I was wearing not-destroyed clothes.

Glancing down, I saw that Loki had fitted me in a flowing, strapless, emerald green dress with matching high heels. I glanced down to a puddle on the floor to see that he had also done my hair up in some sort of messy bun, and that I was now wearing makeup and jewelry. For a mass murderer, he actually had a good sense of style. I looked better than I usually did when _I _was the one dressing myself.

With a smirk, Loki held his arm out to me. "Perfection. Shall we, my pet?"

_No_, I thought back angrily, but I felt myself reaching towards him anyways. It didn't matter where we were going, what we were doing, or why I was in a dress; if that's what Loki wanted, that's what I would do. I clasped onto his wool-clad arm.

The world slipped away from me.

* * *

I was helpless - but not as helpless as the guy who's eye Loki was currently in the process of ripping out. Bystanders screamed and fled the museum gala, doing their best to avoid Loki and myself; with my wings stretched out as I hovered loyally near the god, I probably looked like some sort of demon. Beneath him, the German man convulsed as the contraption did it's work. When he finally stopped moving, and Loki finally stopped smirking, the now dead man's body fell to the floor.

Loki nodded at me to follow him. Without a second thought, I strode after him, keeping a respectful distance, yet matching his pace. As the two of us walked, that same rush of wind that had happened earlier started again, this time enveloping us in a soft golden light. Ahead of me, Loki changed from his suit to a set of armor similar to the one he had worn when he had first arrived - only this one had more gold, and a large helmet with giant reindeer antlers on top of it. Subtle.

Just like his outfit had changed, mine did as well. I was no longer wearing the loose emerald green dress that I'd had on before. No, now I was wearing lots of leather and silver armor, my hair was flowing freely, and based on the swishing noise that sounded as I walked, I had a cape. I was willing to bet that, like everything Loki wore, it was some shade of green.

The cool night air breezed over me as I stepped outside after Loki. People rushed about everywhere, screaming and trying to make it back to their cars, but it was useless. They might as well save their energy. Loki let out a little chuckle that was so faint that at first I thought I'd been imagining it. "Kneel before me!" he shouted to the crowds.

Like anyone in mass hysteria, they ignored him and kept running for it.

With a growl, Loki banged his scepter on the ground. Suddenly, there were about twelve of him, popping up around the square and cornering the civilians. I blinked. God, this magic shit was weird. And I had spent a month living with a man who turned into a... you know what, never mind. Now was not a good time to think about _him_. I had to try and stay focused, to keep breaking through the blue mist. Thinking of him would distract me. He _always _distracted me.

Loki banged his staff again. Lips curling upwards into a snarl, he looked down at the frightened people before and screamed, "I said - _kneel_!"

All at once, they fell to their knees, and I had to suppress the urge to join them. It wasn't _me _he was addressing, I reminded myself. Right now, he was talking to a crowd of people. He wasn't _specifically _talking to me - so I didn't have to listen. By using that twisted, totally incorrect logic, I managed to stay standing.

Loki laughed brightly and stepped down to walk among them. Spreading his arms out wide, he began to monologue. "Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you _crave _subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were _made _to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

There was silence for a moment as the crowd stared at the ground, too terrified to look Loki in the eyes. Then, a single figure rose above the rest. With tired eyes, the old man turned towards Loki, shaking his head slightly. "Not to men like you."

"There _are _no men like me," Loki replied, a little bit of laughter coloring his voice.

The old man just looked at him, a deep sadness in his eyes. "There are _always _men like you."

I wanted to leap over the crowds and put myself between the old man and Loki, to protect that brave soul in any way that I could, but it was useless; my feet were rooted to the spot until my _king _commanded that I go and do something. I watched helplessly as Loki raised his staff to point at him.

"Look to your elder, people," he taunted. "Let him be an example."

A blast of light shot out from the end of Loki's scepter, but before I could even register what was happening, it rebounded right back at Loki, sending him flying across the pavement. Tearing my eyes away from the god, I looked back to where the old man had been standing to find someone much younger - and clad in spandex. His uniform was blue with red and white stripes and a star over his chest. There was a no so subtle 'A' imprinted across his forehead, and the shield he had in his hands matched that of the one on the poster Coulson had hanging in his office.

That was Captain America.

"You know," he said conversationally, in the tone one might use to scold a child, "the last time I was in Germany, and I saw a man standing above everybody else, we had a bit of a disagreement." All around him, the once docile people were beginning to stand.

Loki snarled. "Oh, I _heard_." He very blatantly looked back to me, then turned to face the captain once again. "The solider. A man out of time."

"I'm not the one who's out of time." As soon as the smirk formed on the hero's face, the wind picked up suddenly, and I instantly knew what had arrived: a SHIELD quinjet. I would know the sound of those engines anywhere. A spotlight shown down, covering Loki and me, followed my a machine gun pointing in our general direction.

"Loki," a feminine voice called out above the loudspeakers, "drop the weapon."

Loki made a face like he was considering her offer, then, without warning, blasted at the quinjet, sending it spiraling off. With wild eyes, he turned to me and pointed towards Captain America. "Attack," he hissed through clenched teeth.

My stomach dropped as my hands instinctively reached at my belt. Oh, God, I was going to have to fight _Captain Freaking America._ Coulson was never going to forgive me if I hurt the guy. Hand wrapped around the handle of my blade, thumb pressing the button, I leaned back into a fighting stance as my blade flickered to life, glowing bright blue.

The Cap's eyes widened when he saw me. I could sense uncertainty in his movements, like his 1940s values were telling him that even though I was holding a scary looking modern weapon and was advancing towards him menacingly, I was still a woman, and therefore could not be hit.

I lashed out, blade slicing through the air. In one swift movement, Captain America raised his shield to block the blow, and the two items collided with a loud vibrating sound. Immediately, I pulled back and went to strike him again, this time lunging forward to stab him. He twirled out of the way. Before I could begin my next sequence of attacks, Loki decided to step in.

The butt of his staff was pressed against the back of the captain's head, forcing the star spangled man with a plan down into a kneel position. "You shall kneel lower than the rest," Loki snarled.

"Not today!" Like an acrobat, the captain twisted away from Loki, then leapt into the air, spun in a full circle, and kicked him in the face. The conscious _me _part of me thought that was hysterical, but the part of me that was still under Loki's control was outraged. I shot forward -

But then AC/DC's _Shoot to Thrill _filled the air, and I was so startled that I stopped and turned around just in time to see none other than Iron Man landing in the center of the square. He slowly rose, looking around while his theme song played in the background. When his glowing, rectangular eyes landed on me, he pointed a finger at me. "Uh... you're not supposed to have that."

"You made it for me," I countered, slowly taking a step forward, a grin crossing my face. Oh, shit. I was so screwed. _Abort mission, abort mission, abort freaking mission. _Loki's spell was going to be the death of me, via Iron Man. Perfect.

Without warning, he raised his hand, and the pulsar started to glow. A bright blue blast of energy shot out at me. In a desperate attempt to not get blown to smithereens, I raised my blade like a baseball bat, which was the exact same color and texture of the blast, and swung at it. It ricocheted away, hitting a lamppost and completely destroying it instead. I stared at it, startled by the destruction, then I looked down at my blade for a moment. _Damn, this thing can do some damage._

I looked back just in time to see Iron Man coming straight at me. Before I could do anything to stop him, he'd knocked my blade out of my hand and wrapped his metal fingers around my wrists. I hissed in pain, then, opting for a more effective tactic, brought my knee upwards. It connected with Stark's rather sensitive spot with a clang, and I quickly realized that the only person who had gotten hurt was _me_. My knee throbbed painfully, and I let out a moan.

"Yeah, all women have that reaction," Stark noted. Then, jerking me upwards so that we were at about the same height, he let out a regretful little hissing noise. "But this next part is a little different than my usual foreplay."

With that, he banged his metal head against mine, and the whole world went black.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Oh my God, please help me_

_Knee deep in the river trying to get clean_

_He says wash your hands, get out the stains_

_But you best believe, boy there's hell to pay_

- _Bartholomew_, The Silent Comedy

I blinked rapidly, the world still fuzzy, ... but it was no longer tinted blue. Oh, thank the Lord, I was free again. Letting out a moan, I moved to press a hand to my throbbing head, only to find that my wrist was tied firmly to something. What?

When the fog finally cleared, I looked down at my hands to see that someone had wrapped them to the armrests of a chair. A quinjet chair to be exact. I stared at it for a moment, trying to comprehend it. Why was I tied up? What had happe - oh, right. I remembered. Stark had head-butted me, while wearing his _Iron Man armor_. God, that had hurt like hell at the time, and it was still pretty painful. I let out a moan.

"Oh, look!" I recognized that snarky voice immediately from a number of various things: television, SHIELD phone calls, Coulson's constant mocking, and from the fight we'd just had. "Sleeping beauty has awoken from her slumber!"

Cocking my head to the side, I raised an eyebrow in Stark's direction. "That's for putting me in it." Even to me, my words sounded horribly slurred, like I was really, really drunk. Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I turned my gaze to the rest of the plane.

Next to Stark, who'd only removed his helmet, was Captain America. Or, rather Steve Rogers. He too had taken off the headgear, and now I got a good view of his face. He was handsome, I'd give him that, but there was no humor in his expression as he stared at me, his blue eyes unblinking as he tried to figure me out. It was almost unnerving, especially compared to the easy grin Stark was giving me.

Just ahead of the two of them, the woman in the co-pilot's seat glanced over her shoulder at me. Wow, she was _beautiful_. She had the kind of delicate face, wide-eyes, and full lips that made men drool and women jealous. Her short, bright red hair was cut just at her chin, and she arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. I shrugged in response, which made her eyes narrow in confusion. With a little laugh, I turned to look at the other half of the plane.

My insides ran cold when I saw him. There was Loki, sitting diagonally across from me, his emerald eyes icy as he bore holes into me with his gaze. His lips were curling upward slightly, but whether or not he was about to sneer, or about to smirk, I couldn't tell. It didn't matter to me - I was wanted to wipe either expression off of his face. Without thinking, I started to advance towards him. I jerked to a halt before I could even make it off of my seat, restrained by the rope that held me to the chair. Loki let out a chuckle, and I growled a little at him.

Then, something stepped in between us. At first, all I saw was leather pants, and a giant hammer tied to a belt, but when I looked up, I think my mouth actually dropped. He was, well, _beautiful_. His jaw (and arms and chest, for that matter) was chiseled, like a statue from ancient times. His long, flowing blond hair was like something straight out of shampoo commercial, and his beard would make any lumberjack jealous.

And he was glaring at me intently.

"Jesus, Thor, lighten up." Stark walked over and clapped him on the back, earning a himself a black look, too. "Just in case, you know, you _forgot_ - your brother's the bad guy here."

The blond man, Thor, glanced behind him to Loki, who smiled wickedly. "The Man of Iron is correct - I am the 'bad guy', as the mortals say." He cut his gaze to me, the smile growing wider. "Wouldn't say that that's an apt description, Agent Crippen?"

"I would say that that's no where near rude enough to describe you," I replied, narrowing my eyes. I started fidgeting with the ropes. When Stark noticed that I was trying to untie myself, he came over and did it for me. I raised an eyebrow at him briefly - wasn't he the one who had knocked me out in the first place.

"Oh." Loki's voice held mock hurt. "That burns, pet. Where did this fight come from? I remember you being fairly... _docile_." The way he said that last word made it very clear to me, and probably to everyone else who was here, what he was referring to. I had to hold myself back, keep myself from lunging at him. It was bad enough that he had done it, but now he was going around and basically _telling people _about it. That was private. Personal.

"You know something?" Stark pointed at Loki and did a head bobble that could have rivaled Fury's. "You, sir, are an _ass_."

"Stark," Rogers cut in suddenly, his voice hard. "Stop riling the prisoner."

"Tell him to stop riling the Jedi," Stark replied, gesturing to me angrily. "I kind of like her. She tried to knee me in the balls." He patted my shoulder reassuringly, like I was his dog. I shot him a half-glare.

Rogers's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand that reference. What's a 'Jedi'?"

"A Jedi," the billionaire began, whipping out a metal stick, which I quickly recognized as my saber, "is a trained badass who fights for all things good by using the Force, which is essentially the element of Awesome, and a lightsaber." Stark paused to ignite my blade, waving it around in Rogers's face to demonstrate. "They basically save the universe on a daily basis - all while wearing a bathrobe. Although..." Leaning over me to look at something, he let out a 'huh' noise. "Just, from what I've gathered, _most _Jedi's don't have magical wings that randomly disappear."

_What? _I shot him a confused look. Not that I was confused about the wings, no, I was _used _to that - it was the randomly disappearing part that threw me off. But... he was right. I couldn't feel them, not anymore. Oh, it still hurt, still stung, but there no feathers, no actual _thing _there. I felt my eyes go wide.

Across from me, Thor had a similar reaction. He stared at Stark in disbelief, then stared at me in equal shock. Suddenly, his surprise contorted into rage, and with a vicious snarl, he whirled around to face Loki. "Loki, what have you _done_?"

"What does it look like I've done?" A mischievous smile crossed his face, and he let out a chuckle. "I have given her the power of the Valkyries."

Letting out a roar, Thor was upon his brother in seconds, lifting him up my grasping the fabric around his shoulders. "Loki! She is _mortal_! You know the consequences! How..." The god fumbled and dropped Loki, looking for words. "How _could _you?" The disbelief in his voice was palpable, and he sounded choked up with emotion, like he couldn't believe Loki could do something so horrible.

But _why was it horrible_?

"Of course she's mortal." Loki peered around the mass that was Thor to send me a particularly evil grin. "And of course I knew the consequences. I simply did not care."

Thor let out another growl, moving towards the smaller god again with his hands outstretched. Before the thunderer could do anything, though, Rogers stepped forward and put a hand on the other blond's bare shoulders. He gave him a concerned, meaningful look. "Thor... what are you talking about?"

"He has given her the power of the Valkyries," Thor repeated slowly, turning his gaze to me. He took a deep breath. "The Valkyries are warrior-maidens of Asgard. They are hand chosen by the All-Father. Once they have been selected, there is a ceremony in which Odin summons magic from Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life, and graces them with wings as white as freshly fallen snow. The Valkyrie chose who falls in battle. They are, in a gruesome sense, the bringers of death."

The entire plane was silent, and Thor slowly turned to Loki. "But that is not what you did, is it? You skipped the cleansing and preparation ceremonies. You used _dark _magic to give her her wings. You knew that she was mortal. You knew the pain you would cause her."

Loki simply smirked.

"Fair maiden, I am truly sorry." The Norseman faced me, looking down on me with pity in his bright blue eyes. "My brother has not given you a gift - he has cursed you. Your transformation was painful, yes? That is not the worst part. The wings he has given you _will _come whenever you are in battle. You will have no choice in the matter. It will be painful. I do not know what sort of dark magic my brother has used, but I am truly sorry for the burden you now bare."

I didn't have anything to say. In my mind, I was reliving that first transformation. The pain had run through me like a wild fire, burning down everything in its path. I had never hurt that much before. Just thinking about it made me shiver uncontrollably.

"Wait, so..." Stark looked incredulous. "That's it? No healthcare benefits, no yearly bonus? She's just going sprout wings every time she gets in a fight?"

Thor nodded solemnly, but Loki just let out a laugh. "'Sprout' may be too kind a term. I would say... 'grow'. But even then, that does not even begin to do the grotesque process justice."

"That's enough." Rogers stepped forward, glaring daggers at the dark haired god. His blond hair flipped over into his eyes as we hit a patch of turbulence, and he quickly shook his head to side to get it back into place again. The corners of my lips quirked up in a smile, despite everything that was going on. Did he... did he just do the Justin Beiber hair-flip? I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, and a smirking Stark caught my eye.

Yep. Captain America had just done the Justin Beiber hair-flip.

Suddenly, the woman in the front of the plane spoke. "Are you Agent Ryan Crippen?" she asked, glancing back at me. I nodded. "SHIELD's been looking for you," she continued, her voice more than a little tense. "You were compromised along with Dr. Selvig and Agent Barton, correct?"

"Yeah," I replied, my voice hallow. Is that what SHIELD was calling it? Being 'compromised'? Not 'brainwashed', not 'made into minions', not 'turned to the dark side'? Compromised sounded like there was a mutual agreement. Compromised sounded like we had made a deal with the devil. None of those things were true - we'd had absolutely no say in the matter.

"And Agent Barton," the woman said tightly, pausing as she pursed her lips for moment, "is he alright?" Then, she very quickly added in a business like tone, "Has anyone been harmed?"

They way she'd sounded so concerned about Clint, and how she'd tried to hide it tipped me off. I looked at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Are you... are you Natasha Romanoff? Clint's partner?" I saw her nod slightly, her lips pursed again. "He's... fine, I think. Loki didn't..." I struggled to find the right words. "Loki didn't take an interest in him."

Loki looked as though he was going to purposely say something to contradict me, but Rogers, who was still standing at his shoulder, gave him a warning look. The villain shut his mouth and quietly smirked to himself.

"He should be OK," I repeated. "I don't... it's hard to remember what happened while I was... _compromised_, but he was fine the last time I saw him. He wasn't Clint, but he was fine. Obliviously happy, in good health, brainwashed..." I trailed off with a shrug. Then, glaring down at my wrists, asked, "Is someone going to untie me?"

"What, not into bondage?" Stark asked, wriggling his eyebrows. Even as he joked, though, he came over and started to undo the rope, his metal-clad fingers oddly nimble. "I find it completely useless myself - it's much easier just to use my charms and prowess. Much neater that way."

Rogers looked like he was about to have a conniption, Thor just blinked at Stark blankly, and Loki let out a little chuckle that made my blood boil. I knew what he was laughing at, what he was picturing... I remembered it, too, the scene playing over and over in my head, the scars hurting again, like a phantom pain.

There was no way I could ever forget.

* * *

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, with everyone eyeing each other warily. Well, sort of. Rogers kept his eyes locked on Loki, Thor seemed to be examining the insides of the plane, like he didn't trust it, Romanoff kept glancing back at me, Stark's eyes constantly flickered over to the hammer hanging on Thor's belt, and I tried to sleep. I hadn't even realized how exhausted I was until now, and the strength seemed to leave my body all at once. My eyelids felt unbearably

heavy.

I don't know if I fell asleep or not, but the next time I opened my eyes, I felt a whole lot better. We'd landed on deck of the helicarrier, and the back of the quinjet had already opened up. A large group of agent appeared in the dark, running towards us in formations, guns at the ready. Even though he _must _have known that they were coming for him, Loki only grinned. That set me on edge. He was planning something.

Romanoff slid from her seat to go stand in front of Loki, producing a pair of high-tech looking handcuffs. As she clamped them on his wrists, she gave him the standard, 'you've just been arrested by SHIELD' speech. "Loki Odinson - "

"Laufeyson," Loki spat, loosing his cool for the first time since boarding the quinjet. "My name is _Laufeyson_."

Thor looked like a kicked puppy when he heard that.

"Loki Laufeyson," Romanoff said again, "you are now in custody of SHIELD. You have the right to remain silent, but we strongly suggest that you don't. You will be taken to a holding center until we have decided what to do with you, or until the World Security Council holds trial for you. You _will _face punishment."

_SHIELD had never been the most creative group of people_, I thought to myself.

Once she was done, about half of the group of agents who'd been assigned to transport Loki to his cell came up onto the plane to collect him. I couldn't help but notice that Thor watched his brother go with a broken-hearted look on his face.

Stark on the other hand, waved daintily to Loki as the god was dragged off, a grin on his bearded face. "Farewell, sweet prince!" Then, the billionaire turned to the rest of us. "So - Scrabble tournament in the break room in twenty?"

"Director Fury will want to speak with all of you," Romanoff replied, not at all amused by Stark's comments. "Until that time, I would recommend cleaning yourselves up." She looked directly at me. "Agent Crippen, there's a doctor on board who - "

"Is actually a nuclear physicist, but he _did _go to med school for a couple of years before dropping out. Also, when he's angry, he turns into the Jolly Green Giant on steroids," Stark interrupted with a large grin. "But don't worry too much about that part - I'm sure you and Dr. Banner will get along just fine." He patted me on the shoulder, then exited the plane.

My insides went cold. Bruce was here? Oh God, he... he... he knew, then. He knew I'd betrayed him, lied to him, probably thought I'd manipulated him, too. I couldn't... I couldn't deal with that.

_"I'm sure you and Dr. Banner will get along fine." _

_Sure, sure_, I thought, _as long as you exclude the part where he probably hates me. _

"I - I - " I looked to the only other person in the plane helplessly, surprised when Romanoff gave me a sympathetic look in return. "I need a shower," I finished lamely.

* * *

The shower helped, but only just. My heart was still pounding furiously. _Bruce is here, Bruce is here. _I couldn't get the thought out of my head. Part of me wanted to run to him, to wrap my arms around him and tell him how sorry I was, to beg for forgiveness. The other part of me, the more logical part, didn't want to see him at all. How could I face him after all I had done? How did I explain it all? How _could _he even forgive me?

With a frustrated sigh, I tossed the towel to the side, then turned to look at myself in the mirror. I winced at what I saw.

There were scars _everywhere; _thin, small nail shaped ones from where Loki had raked his hands all over me, ones that looked oddly like vampire bites from where he had sunk his teeth into my skin, a jagged cut that I'd gotten when he'd knocked me to the ground before it had all begun. I raised my hand and touched my lip lightly, feeling the small cut from where the monster had split it. None of the cuts were obvious, but they were there. They'd always be there.

Turning away from the mirror in disgust, I reached out for the pile of clothes I'd been given. A smile crossed my face at the familiar sight of a white tank top, black cargo pants, and leather combat boots. I'd missed those. After slipping into them, I glanced back to the mirror once more, decided that it really didn't matter if I looked all that presentable or not, then headed out of the room.

I had every intention of going to the bridge to get debriefed by Coulson or getting yelled at by Hill for essentially going AWOL or receiving a sassy head bobble from Fury, I swear I did. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own, though. I weaved through the maze that was SHIELD with ease, getting closer and closer to my destination. As soon as I stepped down the correct hallway, I started to panic. Oh, God, what the fuck was I doing?

Finally, I came to a halt in front of an open door. Turning slowly, I peered in, my heart nearly stopping.

There he was. Bruce. My Bruce. He was leaned over the staff Loki had been using, intently poking and prodding it, his lips quirking each time he discovered something new. I could have sat there and watched him concentrate like that all day. I loved the way his brows drew closer together and how he'd lick his lips every now and then. For once, his body was slack, like he was at home and relaxed here in a lab. Looking at him... it made my heart heart with longing. He was so close...

But I couldn't be here. The pain I _knew _I had caused him... I didn't want to see that in his eyes. It was cowardly and low, but I couldn't face him. Seeing him hurt would tear me apart, especially because it was _my_ fault. All my fault.

I had every intention of just turning and walking away without him ever knowing I was there.

That wasn't what happened, though.

His name tumbled from my lips before I could even stop it.

"Bruce."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_My body is a cage_

_That keeps me from dancing with the one I love_

_But my mind holds the key_

- _My Body is a Cage_, Peter Gabriel

I clamped my mouth shut immediately, my heart pounding away. My eyes were wide in shock. Oh, God, why had I _done that_? I briefly considered turning on my heel and sprinting out of there as fast as I could, but something kept me rooted where I was.

Bruce froze. He lost his slack, relaxed manner in an instant, tensing up when he heard my voice. I heard him exhale slowly, then, hands shaking, he reached up and removed his glasses. When he finally looked up at me, the whole world seemed to stop. His brown eyes widened slightly when he saw me, and he blinked once. He looked me up and down, taking me in, like he couldn't believe I was really there. Eyes meeting mine, I felt my heartbeat start to take off again.

Disbelief. Relief. Longing. Sorrow. I saw all those things when I stared into his eyes. But even as I watched, those emotions changed. Betrayal. Hurt. Resentment. Anger. The chocolate brown color seemed to darken, and a pang of regret shot through me. Why had I ever left him? Why had I done this to him? We stared at each other for a moment. The silence in the room was deafening.

"So." His voice was flat, a bitter, wry smirk forming on his face. His eye were trained on me, and they were filled with pain. _I _had caused him that. _I _had made him feel so betrayed. A huge lump formed in my throat and a dull throbbing behind my eyes started. "You work for SHIELD." It wasn't an accusation, it wasn't a question - it was a fact. A simple, heartbreaking fact.

Casually crossing around from behind the table, he shoved his hands in his pockets, fixing me with a cold stare. "What were you doing in Calcutta, Ryan? What were you _really _doing? Because I know it wasn't just for a vacation. You wouldn't have stayed with me if you weren't being forced to."

I wished he knew how much his words hurt. Each one was like getting a sliver of glass stuck in my heart; it was slowly killing me in the most agonizing way possible. That wasn't true - I wouldn't have _left _him if I hadn't been forced to. Taking in a slow, shaky breath, I tried to explain. "I was assigned - "

"Oh, I see," Bruce cut me off, his voice laced with venom. I had never, _never _seen him like this. He was damaged, and now, he was taking it out on me. I deserved it, too, but that didn't make it any less painful. "You were _assigned _to me. I get it. That's all I was, an assignment, a job, a bothersome task. A mission that you could check off and file away, and you wouldn't ever have to deal with it again." He snorted, raising his eyebrows tauntingly. "But I'm here now. Now you have face me."

Bitting my lip, I remained silent. I wanted to flee, wanted to run away and hide from his words. Instead, I just looked at him helplessly, unable to put words to my feelings, unable to tell him all the things I'd wanted to say for months.

"What?" he challenged, spreading his arms out wide as he took another step towards me. "Now that you don't have your lies to hide behind, you have nothing to say? Is that it? How much did you lie about, anyways? Was _anything _you said true?" We were toe to toe now. I could feel the rage coming off of Bruce in waves, and when I looked up at him, the snarl on his face and the hurt in his eyes broke me. He broke me. "Did you even care about me at all?"

I couldn't take in anymore. Acting on impulse, I reached out and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in close to me at the same time. Adrenaline pumping through me, I did one of the craziest things I'd ever done - I pressed my lips to his. Both us froze, equally shocked at what I had just done. I didn't regret it, though; his lips were warm and soft, just like I'd imagined they would be.

Pulling back, I realized how hard we were both breathing. Bruce just stared at me, wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open slightly, stunned into silence. "Look," I began, desperate to make him understand, "None of that is true. Bruce, I - "

Bruce's lips crashed down over mine, moving hungrily against them as he pushed me back up against the wall. His body was pressed against mine, but in that moment, it wasn't close enough, and I arched my back to cling to him tightly. My hands found their way up his neck, my fingers entangling themselves in his soft curls. A shudder coursed through me as his rough hands slid up underneath my shirt, grasping my sides and pulling me closer to him. Our lips never slowed, and the moved against each other, quickly, ravenously, _angrily_. All of the things we'd been feeling for the last month went into this kiss. The heat began to build, and I let out a moan against Bruce's mouth. This felt so good, so right, and I wanted him. I wanted all of him. I had missed him so much, missed the feel of him on me.

When he dug his nails into my skin, I groaned, pressing into him further. I hooked one of my legs around his own, then drew him in closer, if that was even possible. It seemed like we were already as close as we could get, but it still felt like we were miles apart. With each moment, the ache in my chest that had haunted me for the past month faded, leaving a brilliant, swelling sensation in it's place.

Suddenly, the kiss turned salty, and with a start, I realized one or both of us was crying. Maybe it was me, maybe it was him. I didn't really care. As long as it was _us_. Together.

There was a rumbling in Bruce's chest, and I instinctively moved my hands there, twisting my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him in. He let out a little moan. Moving his hands from my waist to the wall behind me, he shifted his mouth so that his lips were pressed against the corner of my own. I felt his lip curl upwards. "You..." he snarled, mouth moving against mine furiously. "Make me... so... _angry_." With that last word, he slammed his hands against the wall.

And then he wasn't there anymore. He was gone, just as I had left him. My eyes snapped open. Bruce was leaning against a table for support with his back turned to me, his breaths coming out in short gasps. Or maybe those were _my _breaths. My chest was rising and falling heavily, and my face felt hot. Hell, the whole _room_ felt dizzyingly hot.

Bruce let out a groan, his whole body shaking dangerously. Memories of all the nights spent lying awake and listening to him struggle came rushing back to me. For some reason, this time I wasn't afraid. Of course, that probably had something to do with me being light-headed and all the adrenaline that was coursing through me. I tentatively took a step towards him. "Bruce?"

"Go." His voice ragged. "You have to leave." I took a step back, stung. I felt the pressure building behind my eyes as I stared at him. "Please," he added, his voice cracking.

I stumbled backwards, mind and heart reeling. After knocking into a table, I spun to face the door. When I reached it, I paused and slowly turned back around. "I'm sorry," I said quietly.

Without waiting for a reaction, I turned and fled.

* * *

"Agent Crippen. Welcome back."

I looked up from my mug of now cold coffee at the sound of that familiar, bland voice. Agent Phil Coulson stood in the doorway of the break room, a large file tucked under his arm as he regarded me with his usual, hard to read expression. Because my throat was still raw, and I didn't trust my voice to stay strong, I nodded my greeting. Taking that as his cue, Coulson stepped into the room and moved to stand in front of me. Uh-oh. I knew that position. That was the _debriefing _position.

Sure enough, the first thing out of Coulson's mouth after that was: "I'm here to debrief you."

I tried swallowing, but the huge lump in the back of my throat wouldn't go away. Instead of replying, I just raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I know. It seems redundant to debrief on what you already know. But this is new." He pulled the file out from under his arm and opened to the first page. "I've been questioning Thor about your current state. Unfortunately, it seems that at this point there is nothing we can be sure of."

I briefly wondered if Coulson was aware that my attention was slowly slipping elsewhere. I couldn't help it; my mind was replaying that moment, was reliving it. I could still feel the feel of him on me...

"Because of the nature of your transformation," Coulson continued nonchalantly, as if SHIELD agents sprouted wings every day and this was just protocol, "the only thing that is certain is that you _do _have wings, and that they will appear in the heat of battle. Thor has described 'battle' as any fight that will result in multiple deaths on either side, the reason for this being... Have you read any of the Harry Potter books?"

"Have _you _ever read a Captain America comic-book?" I answered automatically, offended that he even had to ask. As soon as I spoke, though, I retreated back into myself. My voice, oh God, my voice sounded like I had broken glass in my throat. Did it have to be so freaking obvious that I'd been crying? I pressed my lips together tightly.

Coulson simply nodded as though he hadn't noticed it, but I could see his eyes become a little softer as he looked down at me. "Fair point," he conceded, "but I wanted to make sure before I made a reference. According to both Thor and Loki, Loki has given you 'the power of the Valkyrie'. Valkyries are immortal, virgin women warriors who decided who lives and who dies in battle. They're essential the Grim of Norse cultural - if you see a Valkyrie, you die. They take the form of the person you're facing and kill you."

I cleared my throat before speaking this time. "That's lovely." Then, I paused. "However, there is a flaw in that logic." I raised my eyebrows suggestively, waiting for Coulson to get the hint.

He got it, but he didn't bat an eye, like agents came up to him everyday and were just like, _"Oh, hey, Phil. I'm not a virgin. I've had sex. Here, have that mental image"_. Very calmly, he closed the file and tucked it back under his arm. "The logic behind you magically growing wings is flawed. My point is, Loki is the only one who knows exactly what has happened to you. Thor suspects that, even though you're human and several key steps in the transformation were skipped, you will become more resilient and stronger than average." He shrugged. "It's not a very thorough debriefing, but that was really all I had to work with."

"And you did fabulously," I assured him. Rising slowly to my feet, I stretched out, yawning slightly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's a meeting I'm blowing off."

"There is. I volunteered to collect you after I'd debriefed you."

"Oh, you 'volunteered', did you?" I smiled slyly. "And... was Captain America the one who asked that you get me?"

Coulson looked like he was trying very hard to keep his face void of all emotion. "Captain Rogers was not the one who requested your presence."

I just laughed. "Did you get him to sign your cards yet?"

"He hasn't yet," Coulson admitted, actually smiling wistfully at the thought, "but he has agreed to. I have them in my locker now. I'm just waiting for the right chance to ask him again..."

* * *

The minute I strode out of the hallway, Stark stopped all that he was doing to give me a large grin, spreading his arms out wide. "Master Kenobi! So glad you've decided to join the council! Mace Windu here was just talking about you." He pointed over to where Fury was glowering at him.

At that point, all of them, all of the Avengers were looking at me - all except for one.

Bruce kept his head down and his arms crossed as he stared at the floor, pretending not to hear or see me me. I felt a pang in my chest as I watched, and soon I couldn't bare it anymore. I'd rather he yell than just ignore me. Acting as if I hadn't even _noticed _any of that, I turned to face Fury, who had transferred his gaze to me. "You were talking about me, sir?"

"He was speaking of flying monkeys," Thor muttered before Fury could speak. The god furrowed his brows in frustration. "I still do not understand..."

Fury rolled his eye. "Minions, Thor. Pretend that I said 'flying minions'." Shaking his head slightly, the director addressed me. "Crippen, how did Loki turn you and the others into his personal flying... minions?"

_Oh, here we go. _"He touched us with that spear of his. I don't know how it happened exactly, but suddenly everything went foggy and blue. I was sort of aware of what was happening, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. We were bent to his will."

"You were aware of what was happening?" Fury asked, a spark going off in his dark eye.

"Vaguely."

"Then what is he planning? What does he want? What is he using the Chitauri for? Where did he get them?" The man had started to pace. "Crippen, we need to know everything you remember. _Everything_."

"I - " Memories flashed through my head. Painful ones, ones that I never wanted to relive again. Sucking in a deep breath, I shook my head. "What I remember won't help you."

Everyone started talking at once.

"Any and all information you have can be valuable - "

"Now is not the time to hold back - "

" - brother may be planning something even larger than I had ever imagined - "

"Tight lips sink ships."

" - you tell us what you know now or so help me I will throw you in the Hulk tank - "

"Wait... that's not right..."

" - holding things back will only impair - "

" - there's nothing we gain from not knowing - "

" - tell - "

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"_He raped me_!" I snarled. Everyone froze at once. Both Thor and Rogers looked horrified, as though the thought had never crossed their minds. Romanoff and Fury, well trained spies, just stared blankly. The only one who didn't seem entirely shocked was Stark, who shot me a pitying look. He'd known. He'd pieced it together.

Clever bastard.

Then I looked at Bruce. His mouth hanging open slightly, he looked like he was trying to hold everything back. All at once, he looked angry, heartbroken, and like he was ready to go out for revenge. He was shaking all over. Taking in a deep breath, he looked away from me, like he couldn't _bare_ to see me any longer.

"He raped me," I repeated, my voice flat. "That's all I remember. He knocked me to the ground, and his spell broke. Probably had to do with my head getting smacked pretty hard. As soon as he was finished, he put that thing to my heart and made me one of his minions again." Narrowing my eyes at Fury, I shook my head. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Because that's all I have to say. He wanted me broken, and he found a way to do it."

Without even giving any of them a chance to say something, I spun on one heel and stormed off.

I didn't allow myself to start crying until I'd found an empty room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_When you're dreaming with a broken heart _

_The waking up is the hardest part _

_You roll outta bed and down on your knees _

_And for the moment you can hardly breathe _

- _Dreaming with a Broken Heart_, John Mayer

I wasn't sure which I was more embarrassed about: the fact that pretty much everyone on this freaking flying ship knew I had been raped, or the fact that I'd just spent about half and hour in dark room crying about it. I hadn't cried when it happened, but as soon as I was around people... I put my face in my hands. I was such an idiot.

After sitting there for a moment longer, I finally looked up and took in my surroundings for the first time, swiping at my eyes a little angrily. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they did, I found myself sitting in the middle of one of SHIELD's many monitoring rooms. Screens covered every inch of surface area, showing all public rooms on the helicarrier. At first, I thought it was a little weird that no one was in here, but then I remembered something: Loki. Fury would have moved every available agent down towards the detention level. There were other monitor rooms there, and that way there would be extra agents on hand in case anything... happened. No need to have an abundance of people up on the highest deck if they could just as easily do their jobs in a more convenient area, right?

I took in a deep breath. OK. I seemed to have stopped crying. That was good. Very good. Small steps, right? I took in a deep breath, just to steady myself. Gripping the stainless steal table in front of me, I leaned forward a little to take a look at my reflection. Even though my face was warped by the metal, the red of my nose and eyes was still obvious. I just let out a sigh. Well, that was just perfect.

When I moved to face-palm, my elbow slipped and accidentally knocked into one of screens, turning it on. I automatically moved to turn it back off again, but then I heard him.

_"That's nice. That's a nice sentiment. Saved it for... what?"_

My heart clenched just at the sound of his voice. Even though it sounded so bitter, it was still slow, deep, and methodic. I could listen to him talk all day.

_"I guess we'll find out." _That was Stark. There was no mistaking that cocky tone.

_"You might not enjoy that."_

_"And you just might."_

I took my first glance at the screen to see that the two of them were in one of the labs, probably working on tracking the cube I'd heard a couple of agents talking about earlier when I was in the break room. Stark was sort of roaming around the room, occasionally popping some small treat in his mouth as he casually observed everything around him. Bruce, on the other hand, was completely focused on the task at hand, fingers flying as he tapped away at the screen. I found myself staring at his hands; I could still feel them, rough and calloused, around my waist...

Letting out a frustrated growl (because I couldn't stop myself from thinking stupid, painful things), I raised my hand, ready to slam the off button.

Of course, Stark had to go and intervene.

_"So, what's up with you and Kenobi?" _

I froze. Kenobi was me. According to Stark, at least. He was asking Bruce about our relationship? How did he even...? I should have turned it off then and there, but curiosity kills the cat, doesn't it? Not moving a muscle, I waited breathlessly for Bruce to respond.

He tensed up at first, freezing with his hand hovering just above the screen as I had when I'd heard the question. After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, _"I don't know what you're talking about?"_

_"Sure you do." _Stark lazily jumped up onto one of the lab tables, crossing his legs and settling in. _"The sexual tension between the two of you is tangible. Like, I can _smell _it."_

Bruce made a choking sound. After recovering, he whirled around to face Tony, and although the camera didn't show his face, I could just imagine the look of disbelief.

Stark simply shrugged. _"Well, _that_, or the fact that _some _of SHIELD's files are more easily accessed than others, and I may or may not have seen the video footage. Several times." _He pulled out his phone, tapping away for a moment before looking up at Bruce again. _"So. Spill. We have nothing better to do than sit here and talk about our love lives. Isn't that what people do at all-nighters, anyways? I mean, I wouldn't know for sure... I was never a teenage girl. But one hears these things." _Eye never leaving Bruce, he popped some more food into his mouth.

My heart was racing now. I shouldn't be eavesdropping, shouldn't be listening in on this, but I had to know. Was there even a chance he would forgive me? If I could find out from listening...

Letting out a deep sigh, Bruce turned slightly to the side, his face full of conflict. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. _"I don't know... I don't know where to start."_

_"The beginning usually works."_

_"I... I..." _He turned back to face Stark full-on. _"I was in Calcutta," _he explained, _"as a doctor. A medical one. One day I was walking home and there was this huge commotion. People were screaming about a someone being shot. It was her. Ryan." _Running a hand through his always messy hair, he let out another sigh again. _"No one knew who she was, or what had happened, and I didn't know what else to do but to take her home and patch her up. She ended up staying with me for longer than I'd thought..."_

_"And you..." _Stark made a thoughtful face, then pointed at Bruce like he'd just pegged him, _"fell hopelessly in love with our resident Jedi?"_

Bruce let out a little laugh. A bitter little laugh. _"I didn't know she was a... Jedi. She told me that she'd been in the army, but that was it. She didn't mention that she was actually assigned by SHIELD to keep an eye on me." _He broke off again, and when he spoke, a huge lump in my throat formed. _"She didn't bother to let me know she was using me..."_

I wanted to run down to the lab and tell him that wasn't true. Pain filled my heart, pumping through my veins and making every fiber of my being hurt desperately. _That's not true, that's not true, that's not true._

_"Erm, yeah, not true." _Stark took the words right out of my mouth, like he could hear me trying to telepathically send Bruce the message.

I could picture the good doctor raising an eyebrow, or just giving him a look of utter confusion. _"What do you mean, 'not true'?"_

_"Well, according to her file - " _he flashed Bruce the screen of his phone _" - she was just supposed to stalk you for a while and make sure Ross and the Hulkbusters didn't find you. Contact was actually _frowned _upon. Here, getta load of this." _The billionaire cleared his throat, preparing to read from my file. _"'Agent Crippen is being reassigned from Operation: Carry the Banner (catchy title, I like that) due to emotional attachment and a blown cover. At no point was she supposed to become Dr. Banner's sweetheart.' Wow, Fury really is blunt, isn't he? Or maybe you guys were just really, really obvious..."_

_"She wasn't supposed to... make contact with me?" _Bruce asked quietly, his voice blank and unreadable. God, I couldn't tell anything by listening to his voice _and _I couldn't see his face. I wish I knew what he was thinking, what was going on in his head. I'd give anything, _anything_, to know.

Stark just nodded absently, starting to tap away on his phone again. _"To be specific, she wasn't supposed to get within a hundred yard radius of you." _Pausing, he looked up again and said, _"You know, I can't help but notice that you didn't answer my question. Do you love her?"_

_"Why am I even talking to you about this?" _Bruce muttered half-heartedly.

_"Because you like me. Don't feel bad about it - almost everybody does. I have that effect on people. But, seriously, though. You love her, you love her not?"_

_"It's not polite to pry..." _I could just tell from his weary tone that he was close to just giving in and talking to Stark. Suddenly, I found myself encouraging the somewhat annoying playboy to keep wearing him down.

The man in question snorted. _"I've been called a lot of things. Polite has never been one of them." _When Bruce didn't reply right away, Stark nodded and shrugged. _"No, OK, I get it. You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Hey," _he stopped again, distracted by something on his phone. _"Did you know that Ryan was actually _part _of the Hulkbusters?"_

_"_What_?"_

_"Yeah, it's right here. She served in the Middle East for a while, but Ross picked her out for part of a special team... then she went to Brazil... and then she got kicked out for mutiny. I don't know about you, but it seems like there's something missing, because that makes no sense whatsoever."_

Bruce let out a small, surprised noise. Instantly, I knew he was thinking of the first night I'd slept next to him, of the story I'd told him. As I watched the pieces fell in place for him. I glimpsed his face, and my heart jumped a bit when I saw the brief little flash of happiness. _"She didn't shoot me," _he breathed finally. _"She was supposed to shoot me on sight, but she didn't... I... I didn't know it was me she was talking about. She said... she said she didn't blame, that it wasn't my fault. She said that she was glad she didn't shoot."_

Stark made a 'not bad' face, nodding solemnly as he did. _"Is it odd that I find that kind of romantic, in a twisted, 'King Kong and that girl' kind of way? Don't answer that. Anyways, so... what now?"_

_"I keep working on finding the Tesseract."_

_"Wait... _what_? You were all upset because you thought she was lying to you, and now that you know what really happened, you're just gonna keep working?"_

_"She _did _lie to me," _Bruce replied darkly, making my heartbreak. _"And I don't know if I can... Besides, it's useless. The other guy... isn't all that forgiving. He almost got out earlier, and I don't want to... risk it."_

An emptiness washed over me. _And I don't know if I can... forgive her_, I finished, filling in the blanks myself. He didn't know if he could forgive me. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Could I really blame him? I'd caused him so much pain, and I _had _lied to him. I'd lied to him a lot. Betrayal like that wasn't something you easily got over.

I saw Stark open his mouth to retort again, but making the decision I should have made a couple of minutes ago, I reached over and hit the off button. The screen instantly went blank, darkening the room and filling it with silence.

I laid my head back down on the table as I tried to fight off all the emotions that were trying to take over. Sadness, anger, pain, regret. It was better that I felt like this: numb. My eyelids started to droop, and I could feel every part of my body going slack.

I still had some sleep to catch up on...

* * *

_Light slowly streamed in when I opened my eyes. I blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to my surroundings. My breath hitched when I saw who was laying down across from me, propped up on one elbow as he gave me a lazy half-grin. His dark eyes raked over me, and his curls fell over his eyes and stood up in other places._

_"Bruce," I whispered, my voice barely audible at all. My eyes widened in disbelief. He was here, with me, and he wasn't upset. We were laying on the old bed in the middle of the shack we'd shared in India. "What are you... what are _we _doing here? What... how...?"_

_"Shhh." He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "It's alright. Calm down." The smile that crossed his face made my heart melt, but I couldn't shake this guilt, uneasy feeling._

_"Bruce, look. I'm so sorry. For everything. It's all my fault, and I shouldn't have lied or... or... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorr - "_

_He placed a finger to my lips, corners of his mouth quirking upwards. His eyes were dark and serious through, and I shivered slightly under his gaze. "Don't say that," he told me, just as I had told him countless times before. "You have nothing to be sorry for."_

_"But - " _

_Just as I started to protest he cut me off, putting his lips to mine with blinding speed. At first, I was too shocked to moved, but I quickly got over than and and wrapped my arms around his neck. Gently, he rolled me over onto my back, moving so that he was leaning over me. Our mouths moved fervently, hungrily against each other. I arched my back to press closer to him. He bit down on my lip, splitting it. Coppery blood filled my mouth._

_I stiffened. That wasn't... that wasn't something Bruce would do._

_Something was wrong. This didn't feel like Bruce - it felt more like I was kissing a snake. His lips were thinner and colder than they should have been. Suddenly, his chest seemed to turn to marble - smooth, hard, and freezing. My fingers, which had been entangled in his curls, were now holding onto something longer and almost greasy. _

_My eyes snapped open and stared into a pair of emerald green ones._

_Loki._

_Before I could even begin to move, Loki pulled back, grinning manically. The cackle he let out echoed in my ears. Then, like smoke, he disappeared._

_His laughter still rang out around the room. _

* * *

I shot up straight, actually jumped to my feet. The chair I'd been sleeping in toppled backwards, and I, still on edge, whirled around, completely startled by the clatter. My breathing was still hard, my heart still pounding. Loki's laughter... I could still hear Loki's laugher.

That sick bastard. That dream may have been less disturbing than the last one he had sent me, but... for some reason, this hurt more. Because I _wanted_ the first part of it to be real. I wanted that so bad that it hurt. Loki knew all that; that's why he'd done it.

I realized with a start that my mouth still tasted a little like copper. Running my tongue over my bottom lip, I cringed when I felt the cut. Oh, God, how had he done that? Did that mean I had actually, willingly (well, somewhat) kissed him? Memories flashed through my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. No. I wasn't going to relive that.

Static sounded in my ear. Oh, right, my earpiece. I'd almost forgotten about that. It seemed like it'd been so long since I'd actually used the thing, but putting it in was like second nature. Tilting my head to the side and holding my breath a little so that I could hear more clearly, I waited for the message that was sure to come.

_"Loki means to unleash the Hulk."_

I froze, but Romanoff wasn't done yet. _"Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Bring Thor, too."_

Pressing my finger to the earpiece, I was already moving towards the door when I replied, "I'll be there in a second."

_"No, you won't," _Fury's voice rang out menacingly. I understood his meaning and got the warning, but I was done taking orders from him.

"You're right," I said_, _"It'll probably be more like a minute." As I turned down the hallway, I reached up and switched the earpiece off before the director could reply. Then, breaking into a run, I sprinted towards the staircase, taking them two at a time. I stumbled down the last step, then hit the ground running. Other agents stared at me as I made my way down towards the lab, but I didn't really care. They'd see stranger things by the time they were done with SHIELD, and they just needed to get over it.

Skidding to a halt, I had to back track towards the open door. My breathing was still hard, and I knew I looked a little wild. When I stepped through the door, though, no one even noticed me. They were too busy locked in their own battles. It was Stark versus Rogers, Fury versus Thor, and Bruce versus Natasha.

"We didn't come to your planet and blow stuff up!"

"Put on the suit!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"SHIELD monitors all threats."

"Captain America is a threat?"

"My people have no quarrel with Midgard."

"But you're not the only ones out there!" Fury shouted, making the entire room go silent. As I was standing right behind him, everyone's eyes briefly flickered to me, before settling back on Fury. Well, everyone except for Bruce. Unlike the last time we had been in the same room together, he kept his eyes locked on me. His expression was unreadable.

"Last year, an alien grudge match leveled a small town in New Mexico," Fury continued now that he had our full attention. He began pacing around the room. "It opened our eyes to whole other worlds, and showed us that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, _hilariously_, outgunned."

Thor took a step towards Fury. "You are only going to show the other worlds that Earth is ready for a higher form of war."

"This is insane," Bruce snarled, anger lighting up in his eyes. "This kind of power can't be controlled, and it can't be contained. What's SHIELD's doing is - "

"You," Fury interrupted, "need to remove yourself from this environment. Agent Romanoff, could escort Dr. Banner back to - "

"Where?" He raised his eyebrows challengingly, then gestured off into the distance. "You rented my room."

The Hulk Tank. I could very easily picture the clear, round tube that had been built just for Bruce. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now it seemed cruel and uncalled for. He didn't deserve to be locked in a cage. Fury paused, thinking about how to respond. "That was just in case - "

"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't, I know, I've _tried_."

All of us stopped breathing in that moment. My chest constricted, and all I could see was Bruce laying on the floor, blood streaming from his wrists as his chest rose and fell unevenly. Pressure began to build behind my eyes, and I swear my heart broke when Bruce just shrugged like it wasn't important at all. "I got low," he explained, bitterness coloring his voice. "I didn't see a way out, so I put a bullet in my mouth, and the other guy _spit it out_."

That gave me another mental image, the one Loki had given me. In my mind's eye, I could see him lifting the gun to his open mouth, his finger wrapping around the trigger as he glared up at me with tears in his eyes.

Romanoff took a tentative step forward. "Loki is manipulating you."

"And what have you all been doing, exactly?" he asked sarcastically. Then he lowered his voice, a dark look crossing his face. "Do you wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? Do you wanna know how I keep from getting angry?"

There was a sudden beeping sound from over by where I was standing. I glanced down at the computer, raising an eyebrow at the flashing little red dot. There was a snort, and I looked back at Bruce, who still seemed pissed. His dark eye flashed to me as he said, "Sorry kids, looks like you're not going to see my party trick after all."

He crossed over to to the computer screen, leaning down and getting close to it. Just like they always did when he was concentrating, his brows furrowed together slightly. But when he mouth fell open, I immediately knew something was wrong.

"Oh my God," he muttered, looking up with wide eyes.

Then an explosion rocked the ship and I felt myself falling backwards into the dark.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_The secret side of me, I never let you see_

_I keep it caged but I can't control it_

_So stay away from me, the beast is ugly_

_I feel the rage and I just can't hold it_

- _Monster_, Skillet

Before the pain of landing on a metal floor twenty feet below could even register, pipes and chunks of glass came crashing down on top of me. I let out a shout when I became aware of it, all at once, but I quickly bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. A fire seared up my leg, making black spots cover my vision. Glancing back, I saw that a piece of pipe had pinned my leg dow, leaving me helpless. I started trying to pull myself free.

A loud moan next to me made me freeze. Not four feet away from me was Bruce on his hands and knees, writhing in agony. Grunts and groans escaped his lips as he rocked back and forth. "Bruce?" I asked quietly. "Are you OK?"

He didn't respond. Instead his moans became louder and more guttural, like they were turning into growls. Soon, it didn't seem like his voice at all - it was amplified, deep, and gravely.

"Bruce, listen to me." I paused momentarily to attempt to push myself forward. With a grunt, I gave up and slumped back down, the pain still sharp. "You're stronger than he is," I told him, desperation seeping into my voice. "You can fight him - I've seen you do it. I know you don't believe that, but you have to. You can control him. Bruce, I promise - "

"You _promise_?" he snarled, head snapping around so that he could look at me. His eyes were wild with Fury, and the look of utter disdain that contorted his face was like a knife being driven into my heart. In that moment, he hated me. He truly, and utterly hated me. Spit dripped down from his mouth, making him look rabid. "Your promises mean _nothing_!" he growled in that same harsh voice.

I knew it wasn't really him. It was the other guy. But that... that didn't make it hurt any less. Pressure began to build behind my eyes and in my throat, and I had to fight to keep steady.

Bruce's body began to ripple and enlarge. He threw his head back with a roar, his shirt starting to tear and his skin turning a sickly green shade. Immediately, he fell back on all fours, then, loosing his balance, skittered off of the metal platform we'd been on. Breathing heavily, his skin bubble and transformed as he moan deeply. I couldn't look away.

Then, he turned and gave me a look that ripped my heart to shreds. Those were _his _eyes, his wide brown eyes. In that moment, he looked so helpless and scared, like a lost little boy. He was pleading with me, begging for me to help in him anyway that I could. There was nothing I could do, though. This was the last moment he would be Bruce, the last time he would see me for me.

Before I knew what I was doing, the words I'd been holding back came tumbling out of my mouth.

"I love you, too," I whispered. The realization of how true that was came crashing down on me, weighing down on my heart. I_ did _love him. I should have never left him, because now I was loosing him...

Bruce's eyes widened momentarily, but a pain-filled cry ripped from his throat, and he turned away with a spasm. As the roars became louder and more frequent, his breathing became heavier until he was snorting like a wild animal. I stared through the shadows to see he was on his feet now. One last wave ripped through his body, and he lashed out with one hand, making the pipe he hit double over.

He wasn't Bruce anymore; he was the Hulk.

In a last ditch effort to free myself, I dug my elbows into the ground and pulled as hard as I could. Slowly, I began to move forward. Then, all of a sudden, my foot came free and I lurched towards the edge of the platform. Leg still throbbing, I stumbled to my feet and turned towards the stairs, ready to make a run (well, limp) for it.

Something stopped me. I froze, spinning back around to look over to where the Hulk was. He stood with his back facing me, breathing heavily. "Bruce?" I tried quietly.

His head swiveled around slowly. When his bright green eyes locked in on me and narrowed slightly, my blood turned to ice in my veins. Every molecule in my body was screaming at me to run, but I couldn't move. I stayed rooted to the spot. Turning around to face me fully, the Hulk let out an earsplitting roar and charged forward.

I still couldn't move. My body simply refused to. Instead of turning and running, I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed it would be over quickly. That was all I could hope for, that it would be quick and somewhat painless. My heart hammered away, and my life flashed before my eyes, the parts with Bruce seeming to last longer than the rest.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. A hot breeze rolled over my face, blowing my hair back. I could hear heavy, short breaths - coming from right in front of me. Very carefully, I opened my eyes, already knowing what I was going to see.

His large face was only inches away from mine. His nostrils flared as his eyes searched me, and I could see a hint of curiosity in them as he looked at me. He was hunched over, knuckles dragging on the ground, and it was clear to me that he had no sense of personal space. With every breath he took, his muscles rippled, making me aware of just how strong he probably was.

Once again, I was rooted to the spot. The Hulk stared at me, moving his face even closer to mine. I could feel the heat rolling off of him, and I leaned back slightly. Frowning, he grunted a little. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, before he finally managed to get a sound out. "Ry... an."

My eyes grew wide. He could... talk? And he remembered me? I was so shocked that all I could do was swallow and nod. Hulk snorted again, this time seeming somewhat satisfied that he'd gotten that right.

Before I knew what was happening, Hulk reached out and trailed the tips of his fingers along the side of my face. I automatically froze. Even though his fingers were rough and calloused like Bruce's, his touch was surprisingly gentle, like he was going out of his way to not hurt me. With his lips slightly parted, he continued to touch me like I was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. He drew away for a second, then ran his thumb across the top of my cheek, eyes trained on me intently.

My heart beat wildly as I slowly reached up and touched the top of his hand. Shocked, he jerked back, and the sudden movement on his part made me jump, fear filling me. But he quickly calmed back down. He held his large hand back out to me, like he was waiting for me to touch him again.

I reached out and skimmed my fingers over the top of his palms slowly. His hands felt like Bruce's so much that it made my heart hurt. "I'm sorry," I muttered, looking up into his eyes. "I'm so sorry."

A sharp pain shot up my back, and I fell to the floor with a loud cry. The still tender patches of skin down the sides of my back began to itch until it felt like it was on fire. Screams that weren't my own filled my mind, along with shouted orders, gunshots, and explosions. Those were the sounds of war, and they were the only things I could hear. My head felt like it was about to explode.

Something began to bubble up just beneath my skin. I let out another raw scream as my bones began to grow and fuse, moving in ways that should be physically impossible. The pressure momentarily disappeared when the wings ripped from my back, but that relief was short lived. My skin burned, the only thing cooling it was the blood that was dripping across it. Pain blinded me, and tears swelled up in my eyes. Short, heavy breaths escaped my lips as my chest rose and fell dramatically. That hurt, oh God, that _hurt_.

Gun shots rang out from somewhere above me. With great effort, I turned my head to the side to see Natasha Romanoff standing on a catwalk above us, guns blazing as she aimed just over my head. Still dazed and confused, I glanced back over my shoulder to see what she was shooting at.

Hulk. She was shooting at Hulk. As quickly as I could, I tried to turn back to Romanoff to tell her to stop, that he the one hurting me, that there was no need to shoot. My mouth opened, but no words would come out. There was a terrible roar from behind me, and I felt a rush of wind as Hulk jumped over me, lunging towards Romanoff. I could just make out the look of fear on the spy's face before she turned to flee. "No," I protested weakly, but it was too late; the two of them were out of sight.

Breathing raggedly, I staggered to my feet, using the metalwork nearest me to haul myself up. The screams in my mind were more ruffled, but I could still hear them. SHIELD was under attack. The minute I thought that, my wings flew outward instinctively, flapping a little and tugging painfully on my skin. I hissed.

Then, a new voice joined in with the other, panicked ones. It was a cold, harsh laughter that seemed to overpower everything else, commanding my attention. _Loki_. Everything clicked into place then; this wasn't an attack, not really. This was a _distraction_. Loki had planned this, all of this, and he was going to try and escape while we were preoccupied.

Stumbling forward, I started off towards the detention center.

* * *

A loud bang above the roar of the wind spurred me through the open door to the holding center. I lurched forward, heart racing. _That couldn't be good. There was no way that was good. _I stopped short when I saw what was going on in the room, though; the Hulk Tank had been released, and over on the far side there was a large, smoking hole in the wall. A million different possibilities ran through my head as I looked around in confusion.

Then, I heard someone take in a deep ragged breath. My eyes followed the sound, and when the landed on the person who had made it, my heart stopped.

Phil Coulson looked up at me, his eyes shinning with tears and blood dripping down his chin. His face was deathly pale. A dark stain was spreading across his suit, starting from his just around where his heart was. The world seemed to spin, and I instantly dropped to me knees beside him. I couldn't believe it. This wasn't happening, it _couldn't _be happening. This was the man who stopped a gas station robbery using only a bag of flour. He couldn't be dying. It just wasn't possible.

But then he took in another breath, struggling and wheezing so much that _I _winced. When he looked up at me helplessly, I went completely numb. _No. No, no, no, no, no. _"Coulson," I murmured, my voice cracking dangerously.

"Loki..." He broke off and swallowed thickly. "Went... that way." With a great deal of effort, he jerked his head to the side, gesturing to the hole in the wall. I glanced down at the large, still smoking gun in his lap, and couldn't help but smile slightly. Only a badass like Coulson would shoot an alien god through a wall.

However, when I looked back up at him again, the smile dropped. My eyes and nose burned as I stared at him. I felt so small and lost as I watched the man who'd been my mentor slip away. It wasn't the fact that he was dying that scared me so much; it was that he looked just as scared as I felt, and I had never seen him like that. He was always calm and collected, the one dependable, solid thing, and now he was as unstable as I was. That terrified me in more ways than I could say.

Coulson inhaled sharply again. "Go... get him."

"I - I can't... I can't leave you," I insisted, tears springing to my eyes. I blinked rapidly in an attempt to get them to go away, but all that succeeded in doing was getting them to roll down my face. I swiped at them.

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "I'll be... fine. They'll come find me. But you... you have to... get him." When I bit my lip, hesitating slightly, he reached up and grabbed the front of my shirt. "_Go_."

I stumbled backwards. This was what he wanted me to do, his last request. I _would_ find Loki. Before I took off after the god, I glanced back at the senior agent. "Thank you," I told him quietly, my throat closing up as I realized that was probably going to be the last thing I ever said to him.

"Just doing... my job."

He would say that, wouldn't he? Swallowing thickly, I nodded once, then took off after Loki.

* * *

The wind howled as I stepped out onto the deck, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the handle of my saber. As I moved to press the button, my wings instinctively retracted so as not to get caught by the wind. I winced slightly when it happened, but didn't allow for the pain to slow me down. Blade extended, I started forwards.

He was smirking at me, _mocking _me. The look of utter delight on his pale face made my blood boil. Above the wind, I heard him let out another one of his taunting laughs. "My, my," he called, "your eyes are an _unsightly _red. Have you been crying? Oh, dear, was it because I _killed_ dear Agent Coulson?" He laughed once more, looking totally at ease, even though I was advancing on him _with a sword in my hands_. "Was he dead when you arrived?" Loki's voice dropped into a purr. "Or was he still clinging to life, holding onto it with all he had? Did you see the light fade from his eyes, hear his final bre - "

I brought the glowing blue blade down with an angry war cry. Laughing brightly, Loki easily raised his spear to block the blow. The two of us went into a deadly tango, dodging each other's strikes and trying to get in jabs of our own. Adrenaline coursed through me as we fought, my body going on autopilot, letting my rage fuel my attacks. Each blow was swifter than the last, and I grinned as the smile on Loki's face faded when he realized I wouldn't be so easily defeated.

He took his staff in both hands, putting it against my blade and shoving me back. "I grow tired of this," he snarled. With a wave of his hand, my saber disappeared, and _he _was holding it. In the same swift movement, he reached forward and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me in close to him. "Come with me."

Oddly enough, it wasn't a command. No, it sounded more like a request. Their was an unexplainable softness in his tone, like he was trying to see if he could convince me to go with him.

"Now, why the _fuck _would I do that?" I replied, grinning easily. I inwardly cured myself. _OK, seriously? You're going to do that to a god. Really. _I couldn't help it; that was just my natural reaction - and it was probably going to get me killed.

Instead of looking outraged, Loki matched my smile. "Oh, you'll come to me eventually. When all your friends have passed and you are utterly alone in this world, you'll come. And it will be sooner than you can imagine, pet. You'll watch them die, one by one, and when they're all gone, I will be the only one you can turn to."

I remembered him leaning over me, telling me that I would kill everyone I cared about. But, no. No, that wasn't going to happen, not on my watch. "I doubt that," I told him.

"You say that now, but you yet to experience true loneliness."

"Why do you even care?" I asked. "Why me? Of all the people, why am _I _the one you're targeting?"

His emerald eyes glistened mischievously. "Because you provide an excellent game, Agent Crippen. You resist and you fight and your strength sets you apart from the rest of the weak women of your race. I could have any mortal that suited my fancy, but where is the _fun _in that? I've made you a worthy opponent," he hissed, gesturing to my wings, "and now, I _will _conquer you, just as I will conquer your realm."

I spat in his face.

"You see?" Loki chuckled. "You _do _have more fight than the rest. I will enjoy making you mine, breaking your will even further. But, alas, now is not the time for that." With blinding speed, he transferred his hand from my shoulder to my face, lifting me up with only the one hand that was curled under my chin. He gave me a mock questioning look. "Have you tested your wings yet, Agent Crippen? Well, I suppose know is as good a time as any..." Pulling me close enough so that I could feel him breathing on me, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Say hello to your beast for me."

With that, he pushed me backwards and let go, sending me flying out into the open air. My stomach dropped as the wind rushed upwards, and my breath caught in my throat when I looked down to see the ground thousands of feet below me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_In a time of treason, is there time for trust?_

_When there's not them, only us?_

_Is there time for reason? _

_Has your heart had enough?_

_Is it time to let go and rise above?_

- _Rise Above, Part 1_, Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark

Panic and adrenaline rushed through me as my speed steadily increased. The wind roared in my ears, drowning out the sound of my frantic heartbeat and tearing a scream from my lips. Oh, God, I was going to _die_.

_No, you're _not_. _I grit my teeth together, my eyes starting to water as the wind bombarded them. _You're not going to die. Get it together. _To the best of my ability, I took in a deep breath (which ended up as more of a gasp), and tried to clear my mind. I'd taken a mandatory ski-diving class when I'd joined SHIELD; I could do this. Sure, I didn't have a parachute, but hey, it was a start.

As quickly as I could, I spread my arms and legs out like a starfish, leveling myself out. Almost immediately, I felt myself slow a bit. OK, good. That was good. From out of the corner of my eye, I saw something relatively small and silver go shooting past: my blade. Loki must have thrown it after me. Remembering what the instructor had told us about ariel maneuvers, I took another deep breath and pulled all of my limbs in. Angling my body over towards the left, I shot like a rocket towards my falling saber, catching up to it quickly. After I snatched it up, I went back to the starfish position.

The longer I fell, the harder it became to keep calm. I was _falling to my death. _Unless I did something soon -

Without realizing it, I'd started to flap my arms like they were wings.

Wings.

_You freaking _idiot_. You _have _wings. Legitimate ones. _Now that I'd figured that out... well, I couldn't just open them up like this. They'd probably tear off. Wincing as I remembered how painful they were in general, I racked my brain for another idea. What I needed was a way to minimize wind resistance...

An idea struck me like lightning. Pressing my arms and legs to the rest of my body like I had earlier, I titled myself downwards. My speed increased, and so do did my angle. Soon, the top of my head was perpendicular to the ground, and all I could see was the blue sky behind me. Nerves going haywire, I closed my eyes and pictured my wings slowly extending, out then up. I felt a sharp tug on my back, then a light tickling of feathers brushing up against my skin. _OK, _I thought, trying to calm myself_, this is going to work. _As if they were a natural extension of my body, I could feel the wings as the extended outward.

Just as I was about to get them to start flapping (that _was _how you used wings, right?), I had a better, more careful idea: _coasting_. Maybe I could just coast down to safety, no (probably) painful flapping necessary. I adjusted my body angle so that I was slowly headed downwards, swooping down above the sea.

I was startlingly close to the ground now. A few hundred feet at the most, give or take. If I hadn't remembered the damn wings... I didn't really want to think of that. Shaking my head slightly, I turned my gaze outward. Sunlight reflected off the waves of the ocean, making me wince a little. Further ahead, large cement dock houses almost overshadowed the New York City skyline. That's where I'd land.

Soon, I was right over the tops of one of the buildings. Doing a double take, I stared hard at the roof - or rather, what was left of the roof. There was a huge, gaping, almost humanoid-shaped hole, right in the middle of it. _Say hello to your beast for me_. Bruce. Bruce must have made that hole.

Er, well, it was actually probably Hulk, based on the size and the damage.

Without realizing I was doing it, I started to flap my wings, turning to the side and going down lower and lower. Suddenly, the pain hit my like a freight train, making my vision go pure white. My head felt like it was about to explode, and skin around the base of my wings burned. My wings folded in automatically. I dropped like a rock, the wind rushing up again. When I hit the ground a second later and tumbled forward, I didn't even care - my back hurt too badly for anything else to matter. After a few seconds of laying on the ground, trying to get all of my senses under control, I finally managed to stagger to my feet. That proved to be too much, and I stumbled over to a wall so that I could use it for support.

I leaned against the wall, panting heavily. My mind was still whirling as the adrenaline coursing through me refused to fade, leaving me breathless and disoriented. Oh, God. That had just happened. I had just _flown_. And it had fucking hurt, too. The skin around my wings felt like it was on fire, and I was fairly sure that they were bleeding a little.

"Oh, jeez. Not another," a tired voice muttered from somewhere behind me.

i whirled around to see an old man in an oversized janitors outfit staring at me with a mop in one hand and a bundle of fabric in the other. Leaning on his mop almost casually, he just sort of raised his eyebrows at me. "Is this some sort of alien invasion? Because there's some big, green naked fella in there." He jerked his head back towards the abandoned warehouse.

So it _had _been Bruce who'd made the large whole in the window. "Relax. It's not an alien invasion." _Not yet, anyways. _"He just... he does that sometimes. Wait, he's _naked_?" I felt my face flush red and my heart start to beat a little faster. Biting back a curse, I looked off to the side so that the old man wouldn't see.

"Buck-ass nude," the janitor confirmed, nodding sagely. He seemed calm about the whole thing - too calm. Did this _happen _often, or... what? Maybe he was an ex-SHIELD agent? Not even noticing the odd look I was giving him, he shifted slightly as he took the bundle out from under his arm and tossed it at me. "Found your man some clothes in the back. Figured maybe they'd fit him once he shrunk down." He snorted and turned his head to the side, eyes glazing over like he was reliving something. "Haven't seen anything quite like that in some time..." Then, turning back to me, he asked, "You _sure _this isn't an alien invasion?"

"What do you know about alien invasions?" I gave him an incredulous look. _'Haven't seen anything quite like that in some time'_? Was there a flux of giant green men falling from the sky back in the sixties or something?

The janitor's eyes twinkled, and a smile slowly spread across his face. "More than you do, I'd wager." He looked me over once, then cocked his head to the side. "You're with SHIELD, aren't ya? Bunch a upstarts. You haven't even _heard _of MIB, have you?"

"You mean MI6?"

"No."

"Then... no."

He chuckled. "Of _course _you haven't." Shaking his head in a _young whippersnappers these days_ kind of a way, he shrugged and started to walk off, calling over his shoulder. "Well, you kids take your time. I'll just start cleaning this section over here..." With that, he shuffled off, half-heartedly sweeping as he went.

For a moment, all I could do was stand there and watch him go. _MIB_? What the hell was MIB? And how'd he know about SHIELD? Or that I was in it? Pressing my palm to my forehead, I just shook my head and decided to let it go. I'd ask Fury about it later. Right now, I had someone to take care of.

It was a slow and painful process, making my way inside the building, but I got there eventually. I shuffled over to a large mound of bricks. Once I'd gotten close enough, I could make out a figure lying in the center of the crater. And, yes, he _was_ naked.

Bruce - and it actually was Bruce - was stretched out, his arms and legs going out at awkward angles. Dust and little, tiny bits of rock covered his skin and were stuck in his hair. His face was totally relaxed, and for once, he looked peaceful as he slept. I could hear his soft, deep breaths as his chest rose and fell. I looked him over, checking for bruises, but he seemed perfectly fine. Dirty, yes, but not harmed.

My eyes travelled further down his body, and I froze, face growing heated and hearted starting to pound hard in my chest. Oh. Well, then. I - I - I... I forced myself to look away, every nerve in my body suddenly very, very alive. As hard as I tried to stare at the ground like a polite, not perverted person, I found myself glancing over to stare multiple times. Finally, starting to feel a little crazed, I tossed the bundle of clothes at his crotch, successfully covering him up. I was both relieved... and maybe a little disappointed. Just thinking that made my face grow red again. Letting out a sigh, I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes.

When I heard a small groan, my head snapped upwards, eyes instantly going to Bruce. He shifted around, for a moment, letting out another groan. With his eyes squeezed shut, he sat up slowly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Blinking rapidly, he finally opened his eyes. "Oh, Jesus..." He shook his head once, then glanced down towards the pile of close, a look of confusion crossing his face. "What...?"

"You were distracting me," I said casually before I could stop myself. _Shit. _Why did things like _that _always come out of my mouth?

Bruce whirled around, eyes going very wide when they landed on me. His mouth parted and moved soundlessly, like he was struggling to find words. I grinned a little at that, my awkward moment forgotten - he was just adorable when he did that. Finally, he swallowed and cleared his throat. "You... you... you have wings. Are those... have you always... I don't remember..."

"They're new," I replied in a flat tone, the grin falling from my face almost immediately. I had to look aware before I could speak again. "Loki gave them to me. As a _reward_." I spat out the last word, kicking the nearest pile of stone. "For my... services..."

"Don't." Bruce's voice was hoarse and held an angry edge. When I looked back to him, he was gripping the stone nearest to him, eyes squeezed shut. Taking in a deep, shaky breath, he opened them and gave me a helpless look. "Please don't... talk about _that_. I can't..." He broke off, turning away almost ashamedly. "It makes me angry," he finished quietly.

His eyes fixed on the spot just behind my back, and I knew he was looking at my wings. Anger flashed in his eyes suddenly, a line appearing above his brows. The blood. He must have seen the blood that came with every painful transformation. Something made my heart leap, as unreasonable a time as this was; he was angry that I was hurting. That... that meant he cared, didn't it? "And that'd be a bad thing, right?" I tried to tease, forcing myself to grin.

His smile was small, but it was still there. "Right. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Speaking of which..." Bruce glanced around the building. "Did I hurt anyone?"

"Not that I know of. This whole area looks abandoned. There was a janitor, but he really seemed more miffed that'd you dirtied up the place than anything else. He's the one who got you those clothes, by the way." I gestured towards the pile on his... lap.

Nodding absently, Bruce glanced at me before starting to pull on the pair of pants that he'd been given. Out of politeness, I turned away, but... to be honest, I wouldn't have minded watching. I coughed awkwardly at the thought. Once I heard the zipper go up, I turned back around as he was pulling on his shirt.

"Bruce, I - " When his big brown eyes landed on me, I froze. The way he looked at me... his eyes still held hurt, but there was something different there, like longing. The mixture was so strange, and it made my stomach twist. Taking in a breath, I said, "I just... I want to apologize. For everything. I never wanted to hurt you. Or lie to you. I only did it because... because it was easier. I mean," I paused, running a hand through my hair, "at first, I lied because that's what I was supposed to do. I didn't know you, you didn't know me, and it didn't matter. But then...

"Then I got to know you. And I kept lying because I was afraid. I didn't want for you to think I'd been using you, and I didn't want to cause you pain. I didn't... I didn't want to lose you, Bruce." I looked away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. My throat was starting to close up. "All of those things happened anyways, but... I just wanted you to know I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You don't have to forgive me, and you really shouldn't, but... know that I - "

I hadn't even heard him move towards me. Before I could finish apologizing, Bruce's hands were on my waist, gently spinning me around so that I was facing him. He pulled me close, our faces only inches apart. My heart started pounding wildly. "Ryan," he said softly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly, "I heard you. Before I changed, I heard you." Without another word, he pressed his lips to mine.

This was different than last time. Slower, sweeter. It took a moment for me to realized what was going on, and when I did, I slowly ran my hands up his chest until I entangled my fingers in his hair again, pulling him in closer. The kiss deepened, the two of us both letting our guards down as the heat between us started to build. Still, it wasn't frantic and angry - it was... even. It was giving and taking, asking, not demanding. My chest swelled in pure bliss. I'd never been kissed like this before.

Together, we sank to the ground. Carefully, Bruce lowered me back against a large, flat slab of rock, moving so that he was on top of me. I moved my hands from his neck to the color of his shirt, grabbing it and pulling him down closer. He let out a sharp moan. Oh, God, that sound. I decided I loved that sound. I'd do anything to hear it.

My hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they started to work at the buttons of his shirt. Letting out that same, almost breathy moan, Bruce's lips left my own, and he bowed his head as he started to trail kisses from the edge of my jaw to the base of my neck, making me breath in sharply when his mouth found my sweet spot. My hands practically tore through the rest of his shirt. He broke away for a moment, shrugging it off, then leaning back down on top of me immediately.

Everything was a blur. It was just me and Bruce. Nothing else mattered. Our lips met in a frenzy of passion, speed increasing the longer we were together. His large, rough hands roamed over my body slowly, like he was trying to remember every inch of me. I ran my hands along his back, fingers dancing across his scars. When he gently sucked my bottom lip, I arched my back to press against him more, and let out a moan. There was a low growl, and I felt Bruce's fingers slipping under the waistband on my pants...

Suddenly, the entire building shook violently. Bruce and I sprang apart, eyes wide as we looked around frantically, searching for the source. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the sky was lit up blue - and _not _the normal, '_oh, what a lovely day_' blue. This was the same, crystalline blue as the Tesseract, as anyone who'd been taken under control by Loki eyes. Scrambling to my feet, I hopped across the debris, making my way to the open garage door. What I saw made my heart stop.

A huge black hole had opened up in the middle of the sky. Creatures that I couldn't quite make out flew out of it, skillfully dodging the large blue beam that went form the center of the hole to... Stark Towers. The building was far away, but even from here, Stark's name was clearly visible. Looking back to the hole, my stomach sank. _This _was the army Loki had been talking about. It was here. This was happening.

"Oh my God," Bruce breathed from behind me. I turned to see his eyes wide and glued to the sky, lips parted in disbelief. Suddenly, it seemed like hours since my lips had been pressed against his, but in reality, it had only been a minute. His curly hair stuck up at odd angles, and it looked like he'd attempted to put his shit back on, but he hadn't bothered to button it. He glanced down to me, eyes still filled with shock. "It's starting, isn't it?" he asked flatly.

I nodded. "They... they'll need us."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, licking his lips in thought. Did he have to do _that _right now, right when I needed to be focusing on an alien invasion instead of how attractive he was? My heart-rate was still up from our... encounter. Bruce looked at me, and the fire was still lit in his eyes, but he nodded resignedly. "Yeah. We should go."

As we started to walk off, not entirely sure where we were going, Bruce slipped his hand in mine and gave it a little squeeze. The half-smile he gave me made my heart melt.

Even though I was walking into battle, this was the happiest I had been in a long, long time.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

_It is returning through the dark  
Doctor, you have met your mark  
Your song is ending, so don't cry  
When you hear him knock four time_

- _Knock Four Times_, Chameleon Circuit_  
_

"No." Bruce's eyes were wide, and shock and reluctance filled his voice. He shook his head wildly, curls flying about. "No. Ryan, no. There's no way that thing is functional. _And _it's stealing. We're not taking that."

I looked from him to the beat up, rusty, _ancient _motorcycle that was propped up against the side of an old abandoned building. He had good points - it _would _be stealing, and the bike looked like it was more than likely to fall apart the minute one us sat on it. And if both of us tried to get on it? Well, I didn't see that ending well. My wings were still sore, though, and I didn't really want to risk flying yet. I still wasn't... comfortable with it. Feathers fluttered across my back as my wings rustled.

Bruce was right, of course; taking the bike was a bad idea. But when I looked back towards the city skyline, and I saw the blue beam still lighting up the sky while beings from another realm flew through the portal, I knew what we had to do. I turned back to face Bruce just as he lowered his gaze from the sky. There was a knowing, resigned look in his eyes. Letting out a large sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I'll see what I can do." Without another word, he crossed over to where the bike was resting, got down on one knee, and began messing with the machine.

A smile played at my lips as I watched him work. I loved the way his brows drew together in concentration, how his hands moved so swiftly and confidently, even though a hint of confusion was written on his face. Just like he always did when he thought hard, he licked his lips. I let out an involuntary 'mmm' sound, and he turned around to look at me with a questioning grin and a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, laughing a little. "I just like watching you. But please, don't let my stalking distract you." I waved my hand nonchalantly. "Carry on."

Bruce just laughed, then bit his bottom lip. "You know, you'll always distract me." He laughed again, turning away from me. "Oh, God, that was one of the corniest things I've ever said."

"Actually, I think, 'and maybe one day I'll tell you' takes the cake there," I replied with a grin.

"I still... I still can't believe you heard that..." There was a hurt in his voice that made me tense up, guilt flooding through me. I could finish that sentence: _I still can't believe you heard that and then left. _My mouth opened and closed soundlessly as I struggled to find the right words. How many different ways could I say I was sorry? Those words were useless, anyways; I'd left a scar. Scars would fade, but they'd always be there. Realizing that I'd been just as affected by that as he had been, he gave me a forced little smile and shook his head. "Sorry, I just... the bike's ready," he finished, taking a completely different tone. "It should work. Probably."

Getting to his feet, Bruce placed both hands on the handle bars and dragged the bike from out against the wall. After staring at it awkwardly for a moment, he threw on leg over the side. I instantly saw that it was going to be a tight squeeze. Once he was all set, Bruce revved the engine, then threw me a look over his shoulder.

Knowing what he meant, I strode over and sat down behind him. Yeah, tight squeeze was right; I was pressed up against him, and I was still hanging off the seat a bit. With nothing else to hold onto, I wrapped my arms around his waist, marveling momentarily at his lean muscles. My face grew red and my heart started pounding. Clearing my throat, I asked, "So, uh, you know how to drive one of these things?"

There was a pause. "I'm a nuclear physicist. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out."

I held on a little tighter.

* * *

He did figure it out. He never went above twenty miles an hour, but he figured it out. We weaved our way through the city, swerving around abandoned cars and frantic people as the bike made sputtering sounds that very closely resembled those of a dying man. More than once, we'd hit a bump and both Bruce and I would inhale sharply, afraid that it'd be too much for our ride to handle.

Soon, a rag tag little group standing in the middle of the road came into view. They were hard to miss, really, what with the crimson cape and armor, the star-spangled skin-tight suit, and Romanoff's bright red hair. Even though the air was thick with smoke and dust from the debris, it was easy to see that they'd been struggling from where we were. Cuts and bruises covered their faces, and their uniforms were torn in multiple places. I instantly felt guilty that we'd missed a lot of the fighting, especially because we were..._ um, talking about our feelings_.

The bike sputtered to a stop, all eyes turning towards us. Rogers instantly pressed a finger to his ear and muttered something to whoever was on the other end. Releasing Bruce's waist, I stood and dismounted the bike, stumbling a little as my legs readjusted to being on the ground. Bruce did the same a moment later.

"Well, this is... _horrible_," he announced.

An almost haughty sound escaped Romanoff's lips. "I've seen worse." Her eyes were large, and it looked like she was struggling to keep fear off her face - it didn't work; there was traces of it in the way she had her lips pressed together, the way her eyes were shinning dangerously.

"Sorry," Bruce muttered.

"No, we could use a little... worse."

Bruce just nodded absentmindedly, looking away from the SHIELD agent. There was a moment of silence, broken by the static of someone's earpiece.

_"Guys_," Stark's voice rang out, _"I'm bringing the party to you."_

We all exchanged glances. Stark's idea of a 'party' didn't seem to really match ours (just based on all the news footage of his last birthday, for example), and if you added in the fact that this was an alien invasion? Well, no one appeared to be particularly excited.

Then we heard it: a screeching noise like no other, followed by the sound of tumbling bricks and the rumble of a falling building. I whirled around to see Stark streaming towards us, a giant... _thing _on his tail. Whatever it was looked like the Leviathan from _Atlantis_, but was much, much bigger. And it was flying. When Stark had turned the corner, it had taken a chunk out of the building, not slowing at all. My eyes widened and fear filled me as the thing got closer and closer.

"Dr. Banner," Rogers muttered with an edge of nervousness in his voice,"now would be a good time for you to get angry."

Bruce just sort of looked back at Rogers before taking his hands out of his pockets and striding forward towards the oncoming monster. "That's my secret, Captain," he admitted, throwing us all a long look over his shoulder. The pure, raw look in his eyes made my heart clench. "I'm always angry."

As he turned back around, his muscles began to bulge and bubble, his skin turning a sickly green shade. Soon, he towered above us all, a fully fledged Hulk. There was something different about this transformation, though; it was effortless. He had chosen to do it. He had control.

The minute he was fully Hulked up, he brought his fist down on top of the nose of the oncoming alien thing. The two forces collided, and the leviathan's head dug deep into the ground, it's tail flying upwards. The Hulk head his ground as the two of them came skidding across the asphalt, a trench left in their wake. Suddenly, it hit me that the thing was still flying upwards, bending over itself, and that it would come crashing down - right on top of us. Instincts taking over, I kicked off the ground.

My wings snapped outwards, giving one powerful stroke downwards to propel me out of the way. Pain shot up my back like white hot flames, and I let out a hiss as my vision clouded over with black spots. Gritting my teeth, I flapped down once more to keep myself from falling. Again and again, my wings went up and down, but with each movement, it hurt less and less, until an almost icy numbness covered my entire back. It wasn't at all comfortable, but... I could live with it. I rolled my shoulders back before focusing on slowly lowering myself back to the now clear ground, easily dodging the leviathan carcass.

I stepped back into the circle the others had formed, back to back. On one side of me, Captain America tensed and raised his shield, prepared for battle. A high pitched screeching noise coming from the Chitauri surrounding us was drowned out by a roar from my left that shook the entire ground. I couldn't help but shoot Hulk an appreciative grin, and he looked down at me and snorted, seeming pleased that I was impressed, in response.

"How do we do this?" I heard Romanoff mutter from somewhere behind me.

Rogers broke the circle by turning to face her - to face _all _of us. "As a team," he said solemnly, fixing us all with a hard, determined look. After pausing for a moment to let that settle in, he began giving everyone orders with such authority that even _I _was itching to find out what my job was. Realizing that, I shook my head, annoyed that I would even think that way. Stupid Captain America and his stupid Captain-ness.

"Agent Crippen," he said, turning to me, "I need you to help Stark monitor the perimeter. Can you... fly with those things?" He gestured to my wings awkwardly. When I nodded, he looked relieved. "Good. And you've got an earpiece, right?"

"I'll turn it on," I promised, already taking a step back and spreading my wings out. Upon receiving an affirmative nod from the captain, I leapt up into the air, wings reaching out and pushing downwards to keep me in flight. I grabbed my sword from my pocket, and ignited the blade.

Sword in hand, I speed off.

* * *

The cold numbness was slowly fading; occasionally, pain would shot across my skin like a spreading fire, caused by particularly powerful strokes or a sudden change of direction. I'd taken to hovering above the border, sword raised and ready to attack. Flocking to me like moths to light, the Chitauri came over and over.

All of them died.

I yanked my blade of us the last one, lashing out and kicking him in the chest. He, his chariot, and his companion went crashing to the ground far below. A smirk played at my lips. With the adrenaline rushing through me and the blood pounding in my ears, it was hard not to feel the high that came with battle. Blowing a stray strand of hair out of my face, I looked back up, expecting to see more of them swarming towards me.

Instead, a glint of gold caught my eye. The rage that washed over me overpowered everything else, and without thinking, I angled my body forward and shot after it, ignoring the painful tugging on my skin. Using my free hand, I pressed a finger to my earpiece. "I have a visual on Loki."

_"If you tell me he's coming my way," _Clint growled back into the receiver_, "you will become my new favorite person." _The desire for revenge was so apparent in his voice - and I felt exactly the same way. Clint and I had both been compromised; it was time we returned the favor.

Even though he couldn't see me, I nodded. "He's headed your way. Don't beat him up too bad - I'd like to get in a couple of shots, too."

I could hear him chuckle humorlessly. _"No making any promises. Better just get your ass over here quick."_

_Not a problem_, I thought back, letting my hand fall to my side. I couldn't explain it, the anger I was feeling. Well, I knew _why _I was angry - the bastard had taken control of my mind, raped me, and thrown me off a flying boat. But the rage would clouding my mind, making me want to do irrational, cruel things. All I wanted was to make him hurt the way I had. That scared me. I wasn't.. I wasn't horrible like that.

Was I?

I didn't think about it any longer, because at the moment, I saw him. Loki. He was flying past on one of those magical space-chariots, a smug grin on his face. As I dove in closer, I could make out a long stick in his hand. Wait... that was no stick. A grin that matched the god's crossed my face just as Clint's arrow exploded.

When the smoke cleared, I saw Loki tumbling across the outside ledge of Stark Tower. All rational thought gone once again, I folded my wings to my back, shooting like a bullet towards him. Skidding to a halt on the pavement, my blade seemed to move on its own as it quickly found its way to the base of Loki's throat. His pale face angled up towards me, and when a grin formed, I sneered. "You have nothing to smirk about. Trust me."

"Oh, but, don't I?" His voice was smooth and cool, perfectly calm. The still rational part of me was suddenly very, very nervous, but it wasn't dominant enough to make a difference. My eyes narrowed. Unfazed, Loki continued, "You won't kill me. And don't tell that I cannot be sure - I've seen your heart, Ryan Crippen. Believe me when I tell you that you will not be able to go through with it. You're too... _good_." The smirk was even wider. "For now, at least."

_That _got my attention. _For now? _What was that all about. Seeing the expression on my face, Loki laughed. "Once you've seen the world burn, you will change. Oh, it might be slowly, it might take time, but I highly doubt that. Once you've watched all of your friends die, once I _kill _your beast, something inside of you will snap, and everything will fall into place for you. You will see as I see. You will act as I do.

"Have you not figured it out yet? The gift I have given you?" He cackled again. "Oh, my pet, what a surprise _you _are in for!"

I pressed the blade further into his neck, breaking the skin just enough to get a small amount of blood to trickle down pale skin. "Tell me," I growled. "You're in no position to refuse."

"Why tell you... when I can simply _show _you?"

Just then, a guttural roar pierced the air, and I whipped around to see Hulk land on the platform, getting the entire thing to shake. His nostrils flared, and his wild eyes fixed on a spot behind me: Loki. Drawing himself up to full height (which was really, intimidatingly tall) and puffing out his chest, he let out another roar, as if daring Loki to do anything while he was there. His eyes flickered to me, softening momentarily, before going back to Loki.

When they widened suddenly, terror filled me, and I spun around to see what had frightened the _Hulk _so badly.

I sucked in a deep breath, the world suddenly moving in slow motion. While I had been distracted, Loki had slipped out of my grasp. Now, he was on his feet, his spear raised, and a snarl on his face. My heart stopped as I watched him drive the tip of the spear downwards, frozen to the spot.

At first, the pain didn't register at all. Then it tore through me, making me stumble backwards, blinking wildly in shock. I glanced down at my chest and stared dumbstruck at the spear that was lodged there, stuck in my heart. A howl of pain and unrestrained laughter filled my ears. I felt myself falling backwards.

Falling backwards into the darkness.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Hey old man, rest your head, _

_You're breaking down inside._

_Armor's cracked, set to collapse, _

_Damn you, don't you cry._

-_ Nightmares_, Chameleon Circuit

For once, it wasn't his rage that rendered him unable to think properly - it was shock. Shock and sorrow and a muffled voice in the back of his head that was screaming out in agony, desperate to get to her, the girl who loved him. _Them_. Loved _them_. Letting out a snort, Hulk crouched down so that he was closer to her level, taking a small (for him, anyways) step forward as his knuckles dragged along the ground.

He felt his mouth fall open slightly when he looked at her. Her entire body was limp, her skin pale, and her eyes closed. The shaft of the golden spear still stuck out of her chest, impaling her. Her chest did not rise and fall as it once did - instead, it was completely motionless. Why was it motionless? That wasn't... that wasn't right.

Hulk bent down closer, his breaths blowing her hair back out of her face, which didn't cringe or twitch at the sudden burst of hot air. Brows furrowing together, he snorted again, looking for any kind of reaction. There was none. His eyes traveled downwards, landing right where the spear was stuck, right where the blood was pooling up and spreading, staining the fabric of her shirt.

That was when it hit him.

The voice that had been screaming at him from the inside finally broke free, and he threw his head back and let out a roar that shook the entire building. The sound did not stop until his throat was so raw that it might have been bleeding, but that didn't matter to him. The rage had completely taken over him. Bunching up his leg muscles, he leaped into the open room the man who had done this had retreated to.

"_Stop!_" Taken back by the sudden outburst, he stopped short, somehow reigning himself in. "I am a _god_, you dull creature! And I will not be bullied by a - "

Hulk had heard enough. With a snarl, he reached out and snatched the god's leg, swinging him around and smashing him into the ground. As an image of the girl, of Ryan, lying broken on the ground filled his mind, he pounded even hard, pouring all of his strength into the final blow. The wheeze the god let out make him snort as he strutted away. "Puny god."

_Ryan! _The voice in the back of his mind screamed suddenly, shattering the barrier that had kept it muzzled. He could see her smiling at him, blue eyes shinning, but that picture was replaced with one of her lying on the ground as blood spread across her shirt. Spinning on his large heel, he jumped through the already broken window and landed by her side.

Something inside of him snapped again, and he let out an anguished roar. Thoughts that were not his own filled his head, mixing together in one emotional, heartbroken, _angry _muddle. As a large lump formed in his throat, his breathing became more rapid. Panic. Disbelief. Denial. They weren't his feelings, yet he felt them, too. It was tearing him apart.

Overtaken by a primal, protective urge, he slipped one large hand underneath her lifeless body and brought her up to his chest, holding her to him tightly. With his other hand, he ghosted his finger tips across her cheeks, the feel of soft skin against his callouses sending a pang of hurt through him.

Once more, a broken cry escaped his lips, echoing through the city.

* * *

_Dark. Everything was dark. My entire body felt weightless, like I was just drifting along in the blackness. Cold washed over me, making every part of me freezing - except for my heart. My heart burned and itched painfully. Was this was being dead felt like?_

"No", _a silky smooth voice replied. Laughter rang out in the darkness. _"This is what the begging stage of regeneration feels like." _The darkness before me shimmered, and I knew who was going to appear before he did. If I could have moved, I would have balled my hands into fists the minute Loki's pale, sharp face came into view. _

_I couldn't move or speak, but I tried my hardest to make him _feel _how pissed I was. The fucking bastard had _murdered _me. Loki, apparently hearing my thoughts, let out another little chuckle, one that would be used on a child not understanding a simple concept. I bristled. _

"Oh, hush now," _he replied flippantly._ "You don't _seem _very dead, do you? Do you feel dead?"

_I didn't, but I wasn't about to let him know that. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of that. A smirk played at his lips, and without warning, he waved his hand. A simple gesture, but the minute he did it, the fire that had been burning my heart shot out and spread to the rest of my body. Pain blinded me, and I would have cried out if I could. Tears filled my eyes the longer the torment went on. _Oh, God. That hurt. That hurt, that hurt, that hurt.

_Then, just as quickly as the burning sensation had come, it went, leaving a cold, almost fluid feeling numbness in it's place. Mentally gasping, I looked to Loki, screaming at him in my mind,_ What did you _do_?

_He gave me a smug look_. "I simply suggested to your beast that perhaps it would be a good idea to remove the sharp object protruding from your chest. What followed was the rest of your regeneration. You're healing, pet. You're becoming whole once more."

_I tried to narrow my eyes at him, tried to figure out what was going on, but he only grinned once more._

"Have you _still _not figured it out?"_ Shaking his head, he let out an over dramatic sigh._ "I do hope your intelligence improves with time, else our game may prove to be rather one-sided."

_My mind whirled as I tried to put the pieces together. He'd stabbed me, but here I was, not really dead. Regenerating, he'd said. Regeneration... that meant to heal, didn't it? How could anyone heal a giant, literal hole in their heart? No. You wouldn't be able to do that. You would die. _

_But I wasn't dead._

_That was when everything fell into place._

_"Oh, you'll come to me eventually. When all your friends have passed and you are utterly alone in this world, you'll come. And it will be sooner than you can imagine, pet. You'll watch them die, one by one, and when they're all gone, I will be the only one you can turn to."_

_"You're too... good. For now, at least."_

_"Once you've seen the world burn, you will change. Oh, it might be slowly, it might take time, but I highly doubt that. Once you've watched all of your friends die, once I kill your beast, something inside of you will snap, and everything will fall into place for you. You will see as I see. You will act as I do."_

_"Have you not figured it out yet? The gift I have given you? Oh, my pet, what a surprise you are in for!"_

_"Loki has given you 'the power of the Valkyrie'. Valkyries are immortal, virgin women warriors who decided who lives and who dies in battle."_

_"Loki has given you 'the power of the Valkyrie'. Valkyries are immortal."_

_"Valkyries are immortal."_

_"Immortal."_

_A string of shocked, senseless curses streamed through my head as the word played over and over in my mind. Immortal. Immortal. I-freaking-mmortal. Immortal, as living forever, never dying. Me. I was immortal. My breath caught in my throat, and for a while, I simply couldn't breath. I just... I couldn't. I couldn't._

_Horrified and shocked and confused and a million other things, I looked to Loki, who began howling with crazed laughter. He went on like that, endlessly amused, until he finally managed to straighten up, whipping a tear from his eye. When his eyes met mine, I could see the hardened, evil glint in them. The smile he gave me was ferocious. _

"Now you see what I have done. And do you know why I've done it? To punish you. To punish you and torture you. Oh, my dear, you will live on as your friends and lover grow old and _weak_, just as the rest of your pathetic race will. You will witness tragedy, and you will feel the pain that comes along with it. You will make friends, but you will loose them, just as you will use everyone who enters your endless life

"Except for me. I will be there, a constant, burning flame, and you, a moth. You will _try _to resist me, but eventually, even_ your_ resolve will fade. You will come to me, and you will beg for me. Oh, not in _that _sense, not at first. In the beginning, all you will want is a perpetual companion, someone to talk to, someone to sympathize with you. And perhaps I will provide you with those things. Perhaps I will make you work for them.

"Don't you see? I will have _control _of you. You will be putty in my hands, just as you were when you were under my spell. Only this time, your actions will be your own."_ He grinned widely and laughed again. _"A brilliant plan, is it not?"

I fucking hate you, _I thought at him, trying my hardest to snarl. _And you know what? That's not gonna work. Because I won't let it. I'll find a way out.

_That amused him to no end. _"Oh, you will, will you? You'll find a way out of living forever." _Giving a mock thoughtful look, he paused momentarily. _"I don't believe that anyone has ever had that goal before."

_Just as I was about to spit out a response, he whirled around and began to walk off into the darkness. As he faded, he called over his shoulder_, "Enjoy your time with him while you can, pet. I will return."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_Then from on high - somewhere in the distance_  
_There's a voice that calls, "Remember who you are"_  
_If you lose yourself - your courage soon will follow_  
_So be strong tonight - remember who you are_  
_Yeah you're a soldier now - fighting in a battle_  
_To be free once more - yeah, that's worth fighting for_

- _Sound the Bugle_, Bryan Adams

If we were doing anything else, I might have managed to enjoy the situation. Seriously, I was well dressed (for the first time in months and months), pulling up to Central Park in sleek sports car that hadn't even come out in the States yet, and it was Bruce who helped me out of the car, taking my hand in his larger, warmer one. Even though he managed to grin crookedly at me, I knew that, more than anything, he was worried about me. And who could blame him? I had been kinda-sorta murdered by a Norse god who was a mere hundred feet ahead of us.

Bruce tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me in closer to his side, not saying a word. I didn't speak either; none of us did.

We came from all different directions. Bruce and I, who'd been staying with Tony, followed the self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist as he strutted ahead, swinging the metal briefcase casually by his side like it _didn't _contain something that had enough power to be the equivalent of a nuclear bomb. A small smile flickered across his face, and beside me, Bruce let out a quiet chuckle. As serious as this was, leave it to Tony to act like this was just another event where he was the main attraction and could do as he pleased, thank you very much.

Rogers passed us, walking straight and tall, with a lot of purpose, like the leader he was. The difference between the way he and Tony moved was striking - the solider and the civilian. Soon, Clint and Romanoff, who were walking with the same long strides as Rogers, caught up with him, with Selvig panting as he jogged to keep up with the well-trained, athletic agents.

They were all following the same two people: Thor and Loki. I hated to admit it, but I shivered just thinking about the younger prince, the one who's voice could make a room go cold, the one who had played me like a piece in his game, had found a way to beat me.

Or so he thought. I wasn't going to give up that easy.

Soon, we'd gathered around what had been dubbed by SHIELD as "_The Departure Pad_". (Tony, on the other hand, had taken to calling it, "_That patch of stone in Central Park that may or may not blow up, depending on whether or not this works, which it will, because I had a hand in it_".) Again, the silence remained. The only thing to really talk about was what had happened over the past week, and no one was really keen to do that. We had our jobs, and we knew what we were supposed to be doing, so we did just that.

With a final squeeze, Bruce let go of my hand and moved to join Selvig and Tony, who'd just flipped open his briefcase to reveal the Cube. A jolt of anger ran through me upon seeing it. That stupid thing had been the cause of all this. If it hadn't shown up, if it had just stayed in Asgard, or at the bottom of the ocean... then none of this would have happened. _Then _Loki _wouldn't have happened. _

I shifted uncomfortably when I felt the god in question's emerald eyes burning into me. Even though a muzzle covered the lower half of his face (which I found both amusing and well-deserved), the way his skin tightened and his eyes lit up mischievously told me he was grinning underneath that personal metal prison of his. That only served to make me angrier, and I shot a glare in his direction before turning back to watch the science guys do their thing.

Selvig held out a huge clear container as Bruce carefully lowered the Cube into it using a pair of tongs, his face contorted in concentration like it always did when he was working. A stray lock of hair fell into his face, but he didn't seem to notice, and only ran his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes never leaving the Cube as he finally set it down. Behind him, Tony was dancing from foot to foot as he watched his plan unfold, reminding me of an overexcited and impatient puppy. Once the Cube was fully settled, Selvig pushed a button and the container slid shut and locked itself with a little click.

Taking that as his cue, Thor began to work his way around the little circle we'd formed, saying goodbye to us one at a time. I liked Thor, I really did. He could be a little dense, and a little cocky, but his heart was in the right place, and he was like an over-sized golden retriever. I was sad to see him go, even though I hadn't known him all that long.

I guess you just really bond with people over shwarma.

Before I'd come up with what I was going to say, he was looming over me, a sad smile on his face. "Lady Crippen," he said, reaching out and taking my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles. "You are a brave and noble warrior. I am sorry for the hardships my brother has put you through. I fear that I am to blame for his actions." His face fell, and he glanced over his shoulder to where Loki was glaring very plainly at him. "If only I had known..."

Just as I was about to ask what he meant and reassure him that none of this was his fault, he turned back to me and gazed at me so fiercely that I quickly shut up. "My Lady, I am deeply, truly sorry. I do not know what sort of dark magic my brother has used on you, but... I feel responsible for his actions. I shall consult with my father's magicians, shall search to find a way to reverse all that he has done."

That took me off guard. "Thor, that's amazing of you and all, but... I can't ask you to do that. Magic is just science that we don't understand, right? Well, I know a couple of people who are pretty good at science." I looked over to where Bruce was standing and gave him a reassuring grin that he returned with only a second's hesitation.

"The path of a god is a lonely one," Thor warned. "It is a curse that no mortal should bare. Friend Banner and Friend Stark shall help you, of that I am sure, but nevertheless, I shall search Asgard and the Nine Realms for a cure as well." He lowered his voice then, and leant in. "Please, allow me to do this. My brother has caused so much damage and cost so many lives. I fear that this may be the only way in which I may attempt to mend things with mankind."

Everything clicked into place for me then. Thor blamed himself for what Loki had become. _If only I'd paid more attention to him, included him more, let him know how much I loved my brother... _Those were probably only _some _of the things that were running through his head. And I guess he thought that maybe, just maybe, fixing something his brother had broken might be a step towards fixing the brother _he _had broken.

That was one of the saddest things I'd ever heard, even sadder than my own impending fate.

For some reason, my throat closed up a bit. "Thank you," I said thickly, nodding. "Thank you so much." I leaned forward and gave him a brief hug.

Resuming his kingly posture, Thor straightened up and walked back over to join his brother. As he passed Selvig, the scientist handed him the jar containing the Cube. That was their way home; Tony, Bruce, and Selvig and worked day and night until they'd finally found a way to open a path back to Asgard - _without _ripping a very large hole in the universe, for which we were all thankful.

Bruce came up to me and slid an arm around my waist, pulling me close. I instantly leaned into him, grateful to have someone to hold onto. Maybe it was the news that I would loose everyone I ever cared about, or the fact that I'd been killed, but lately, I'd been needed him and his support more and more. I was so lucky to have him.

_You won't have him long, _a cold voice chuckled.

My head snapped around to look at Loki, who was staring unblinkingly at me, his face expressionless. So, we were doing this mental chat thing again. And, based on the way Bruce's grip on me had tightened, and he too had turned to look at the god of mischief, he'd heard Loki as well.

_A life is like candle's flame. It burns so bright - for a while. It's ever so easy to put out. His light will go out. Nothing lasts forever, pet. Nothing except you and I. _At that, I swore the bastard tried to smile.

Bruce let out a low growl next to me. _Don't make me angry, _I heard him think at Loki. _Remember what happened the last time you did that?_

Loki's eyes widened ever so slightly. Yep, he remembered. How could he forget? His face was still scarred and bruised from his last run in with the Hulk (which I had been dead for, but, just based on the Loki-sized hole in Tony's apartment, it hadn't ended well for Loki).

The god instantly regained his cool. _You are insignificant, Banner. I am very patient, and I will not have long to wait until you are, as mortals say, _out of the picture.

Before either of us could react, Thor twisted the handle on the Cube's container, and he and his brother disappeared in a flash of light.

I swore I could laughter.

"Well," I muttered, "that went well."

Bruce only pursed his lips and nodded.

* * *

"Ryan?" I glanced over my shoulder to see Bruce leaning in the doorway, hands working furiously at the bow-tie that was draped around his neck. So far, he'd only succeeding in making some sort of crooked, half-knot thing. His hair stuck up in all directions, and his warm brown eyes were wild and a little desperate. "Uh... can you help me, please? This thing keeps trying to strangle me."

I laughed. It was a bit... I don't know, sentimental of me, but I couldn't help but think that this was one of those moments that I wouldn't want to forget. I'd been thinking things like that a lot lately, and it was starting to scare me a bit. "Yeah, sure. Just give me a second." After flashing him a quick grin, I leaned back down and finished doing the straps on the elaborate red heels Pepper had insisted I borrow; after all, they did match the dress I'd been forced into.

Once I'd finished, I stood, briefly placing my hand back on the bed for balance. That bed - yet another thing that Pepper (and Tony, for that matter) had insisted I borrow. Actually, pretty much _everything _within a fifty foot radius had been something that they lent to me. When Tony'd found out that I'd quit SHIELD and didn't really have anywhere to go, he'd practically held me hostage, refusing to let me leave. It'd been the same for Bruce. We'd been living in what was left of Stark Tower for a little over a month now.

And somehow, we'd been roped into attending one of Tony's fundraisers. After all he and Pepper had done for us, we owed it to them, but seeing as there was a seventy-five percent chance that not even Tony himself would show up...

"You know, the odds of me getting this right aren't much better," I warned Bruce as I made my way across the room. He just sort of laughed and held his hands out in defeat, gesturing for me to go ahead and do my worst.

I reached up and took hold of both ends of the fabric, my hands instantly starting to tie. I was so close to Bruce that I could feel his heartbeat, and the smell of sandalwood surrounded me completely. He was warm, too. When I realized that he was staring not-so-subtly at me, I felt my face grow red and my heart begin to race. It was funny, how he still had that effect on me.

I kept tying.

Bruce, never taking his eyes off me, reached up and gently took both of my wrists. I stopped what I was doing. A second later, my arms were wrapped around Bruce's neck and his around my waist. After a long pause, he exhaled slowly. "You look beautiful."

Shrugging, I said, "I guess you don't look _too _bad yourself."

He let out a quick laugh, then leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I ran my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. My chest swelled up, and the whole world seemed to fade away. It was just the two of us.

This wasn't just a moment that I would always want to remember - this was a moment I wanted to live in forever. I wanted this feeling, this truly _happy _feeling, to stay with me for the rest of time. I wanted Bruce to stay with me. And we would find a way. Together.

Eventually, we broke apart, both panting slightly. Bruce looked down at me with a very serious expression, but a gleam in his eyes. "We have that fundraiser to go to."

"Well," I reasoned, reaching up and playing with what would never be a properly tied bow-tie, "you can't go with this thing done like this."

"It's settled then. We won't go."

Without giving me a chance to respond, he drew me in closer and kissed me.


End file.
